I am as speechless today
as he was then. I too have had my tongue
Severed from my throat. My eyes
Will not let me forget
His eyes watching me,
Waiting for me to faint
From the horror of his face
Blasted away, bone shorn from skull
As the butcher’s cleaver hacks
A chicken breast apart.
Fast as I pump that suction pump
He bleeds faster
Drowns in his own blood.
Fully aware of my role as his Savior,
His eyes never leave my face.
I’ll never know
Whether he would’ve rather died that day,
If given a choice.
We never asked.
©Copyright circa 2001 by Pauline Hebert