2 September 2004 | Vol. 4, No. 3
– for Chico
My eye never filled with blood.
I never asked why
was I drugged and held down. Taken away.
Mesmerized. I wasn't a two-headed dog: two faces
both biting a squeal
in the University Hospital for Animals.
I never transformed daylight
dismembering doctors along dark nails.
I never growled
like you—I'd never crouched in fear