The glint from the axe head
blinds my eyes
through my tears.
The razor edge
of that big metal head—
is it pointed at her neck?
Her lithe, youthful, beautiful neck?
The neck that I cradled in my hands at her birth―
the tiny head,
that I held so gingerly,
so that I could gaze into her giant deep brown eyes,
astonished by the depth of my love…
How can it be that my hands hold nothing but air now?
That her big brown eyes look at me with confusion,
with absolute denial?
That my warnings go unheeded,
as she turns away from me
toward the hands
that hold the axe handle so expertly?
I close my mouth and let the last few letters
from my last spoken words
hit the floor with a Ting!
as the door closes after her,
the warning spinning around my head
instead of taking residence in hers.
My body trembles,
my throat dry,
as the air in my hands