Was me with that dark bottle.
I administered the first drop—that one clear as new
ice. The first drop melted into my
wife’s tongue and made her, I must imagine, light as a dandelion parasol. She quieted in her bed and then she floated
away on the inside.
The second drop spread like honey on her tongue and
she stopped calling for me.
The third drop was heavy as an anvil and my wife dropped
away like a black stone in a pearl sea.
Deeper and deeper she descended to the inside, on
through the last desperate day and into that last night.
Was me clutching that fucking bottle the whole time,
watching.
--Mitchell
Hegman
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