the vote

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dragged tagged
flagged bagged

a subtle innuendo
sliding into my gut

an ice pick
sharp and round

small but long
the hole

blood barely
noticed
trickling
onto the floor

a paleness

a chill
of the will

fingertips white
internal tremors
incomprehensible

synapses
unrecognizable
to each other

and well done
the cut
the swipe
the jab

the twisting
of the ice pick

to let me know

but an effort
unworthy of her

tennis shoes
underneath
a prom dress

spinach
in the teeth
of her soul

and there
the wound

not what
she did to me

but that it
was she
who did it

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