Good Show
Erin Nickels
She held the knife at her side and the words in her mouth
She could have said a million things
She could have begged for an explanation
She could have cried and berated him for wasting years of her life
She could have broken the sound barrier with wails of agony
But she remained
Inert
Aphonic
She stood and watched him grinding and gyrating
She watched a friendly face from childhood writhe beneath him
In the throes of passion
They moved rhythmically underneath fresh covers
She had dressed the bed that morning
Those Egyptian cotton sheets were her favorite
He’d been a prick for a while now
But he was her prick
She had a ring and the depression to prove it
She waited patiently for them to finish,
All the while
Amused
By
Their ignorance
They breat
