My Assassin

My Assassin
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/6/01 5:23:20 PM
Before I died in 1994
I remember thinking
That I would have just a little bit of fun with her.
She was like a kitten
Curled up on an eighty year old man's lap.
One with claws that held her there
Poking into clean white fiber.
She looked into me from her perch
While I was avoiding playing chess
Her arms were around the old man
With her curling hair falling over denim.
Her eyes didn't want me to let them go.
And so I stayed a moment too long
Not noticing her bleach stained jeans
Until I gazed down to break her stare.
Her smile was full of dynamite
It was a grin full of the jester's humor
My bones would soon be breaking
Her thighs were made of C-4.
Little did I know at the time
My death was imminent
To every known cause
Of ultimate fulfillment.
My assassin disappeared
The next night into the rain
I wouldn't see her for one more year
When she would verify her claim.
Her sights had been on target
A fallen man I was
With little blood to hold on to
The ground chill to my fading heat.
She flew again
Like a vampire bat
Deep into the night
And with my faintest pleading gasps
"My assassin did me right."
Category:Catalog