1 Aug 2019
We Are 138 #4 - Amputation
She looked faint.
She sputtered “w” syllables. Trying to say, “What?” but it wouldn’t come out.
“It’s my right arm,” I said. I suppose it was difficult to tell precisely what it was with it being wrapped in plastic. And I suppose the shock stopped her noticing there was no right arm under my jacket.
“I said I love you so much I’d cut my right arm off for you.”
Her eyes filled with tears. She threw her arms around me and planted rapid kisses on my lips and face.
Then she unfastened my belt. Slowly drew the leather strap from out of the loop of my jeans. She wrapped it around the top of her right arm as we walked to the shed. I held her tightly from behind and kissed her neck as she started cutting.
Dave Pitt is a performance poet, playwright and storyteller. As one-third of Poets, Prattlers and Pandemonialists he is trying to take over the world one poetry gig at a time.
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