KILLER
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 The Book of Possibilities |
Everything in the world is hateful to me now
I killed today
And it did not feel good
I took a life today
Even though I didn’t mean to
Now food is hateful
Books are
Music is
I cannot speak to you
Maybe to some distant friend with whom
I once shared another death
But I cannot look in your eyes
And bare you my pain
It was not a person
Not a pet, not on purpose
A glancing blow
Glass and feathers
What possessed me to turn around
Except that once I wrote of a girl
Whose car hit a racoon
And when she stopped
And went back
Its fur rose and fell with breath
But it was past hope
So she took a rock
And ended its misery
So life imitates art
And a little feathered body lies limp in my hands
Head canted back
The neck has broken
The slight weight of the bird’s head
Will never rise on that slender column again
I think it’s dead, and then
The beak
An eye unveils
A soundless cry
The warmth of its body
For a moment perhaps
I imagine I can save it
Either that or take it somewhere
Where a nice animal worker
Will take it
Tell me there is no hope
But send me away with only the promise of an ending
But I am beside the road
It is a fading Saturday twilight
And I wring its tiny neck
I shall never describe the feeling
I cry
I cry from the gut
Sobs, wracking
The little body in my hands is growing cold
And I place it under the long grass by the roadside
Crying all the time
So I took a life twice
I took a life
Once by accident
Once for the sake of mercy
And now the whole of creation is hateful to me
And I see my fingers as they are
As weapons, as takers of life
What a being is man
To have this power
And to know its cost
A POEM by Jen Frankel. Use the search engine at the top to learn more about Frankel. OR CLICK HERE and read her BIO!
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