No, I don’t believe in hell, but wish
I hadn’t seen her twitch
panic at being pierced
the needle clawed the iris of the mind’s-eye
as the long caterwaul
of distress
hammered my ears
I flinched–
(They said it would soon be over.)
To see her lives
spill out her eyes and empty into mine
feel the images imprinting on me
her executioner and witness
oh, now I wish I never saw her
wilting in that blank abyss alone.
You needn’t ask now if I believe in purgatory.
