“It was the last kind act”
the black tourniquet hung behind her as he told us:
“this really is the last kind act”
the second tourniquet of the room enters.
“she really was special”
He kisses her hand.
How many people does he say that to?
They’re all special but not to him.
She was my best friend when I needed her to be
and then for a while, she wasn’t
but she was always still there; waiting for me at home.
Today she’s not coming home.
The pink liquid death just sat there before;
staring at her.
“it really is the last kind act”
I got the first tissue.
Standing back,
not petting,
not holding,
not comforting just standing back with tears and apologies.
I’m sorry if you ever felt unloved or if I ever yelled or if I ever forgot how much you loved me.
Her feeble veins gulped up pink death and
the tourniquet was removed from her limp paw.
and this was the last kind act.
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