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

loving tail,