The blue light of old fluorescence
spills onto the speckled, sawdust
plastic coated countertop.
Upon it lies the silver edge hanging
onto the chopping block for dear life.
Behind the broken counter,
you see The Butcher
-towering above-
no longer cowering meat. . .
The thumb of his beloved daughter
went missing in the abyss of
“What the hell happened?”
Found the thumb lying in the sink,
the pink
bloody flesh was floating
in this morning’s cereal.
One rainbow Lucky Charm in a bowl
quarter full of sour milk.
Well, I’ll never look at breakfast
the same way again.
The kitchen’s pink walls,
so similar to the color
of her disembodied thumb on ice-
Made her think twice
about her favorite color
and her bloody red floral curtains
on the windows.
The sink,
its fluorescent light above
saved her from having nothing
but a bloody nub.
