Of Protracted Deaths

And so
we discussed at length
painless options,
procuring pills; ingenious whims
laughing at euthanistic prospects,
you pooh-poohing carrying out
mine
"if at all, it should be him..."
as we laughed some more;
both wanting him gone.

Lime pit is what we agreed upon.

What deliberation was it
to pick for mine
the most agonizing trick from
the stack
of protracted deaths?

"Koi?"

What brought the year to an end
came as the longest week

when the koi had forgotten to swim

upstream

to the Yellow River as is her wont,

unlocking the knotted love hung out to dry

Uncannily quiet, the week

came with motley sounds

of bikes whizzing past

dogs barking

clothes ruffling under the weight of hugs

and wafting notes from forgotten music

but not the proverbial fish

silent in its arrival

waking me up with an excess of vowels.

The year came to an end,

with the weight of the longest week in ages,

The weight of knowing she knows

What I forever feared,

but never knew.