by Robert Lloyd Jaffe
I can’t help but stare
at the long line of carcasses;
glossed over in thought,
thinking about her.
When Mrs. Pivey asks me
to make sure there’s
no fat on it this time,
I nod, and watch the knife,
thinking about her.
At the end of the long day,
hosing down the floor,
and trying to get the blood
off my hands, I smile at the
red drain,
thinking about her.
Last updated May 06, 2016