【Her Majesty】
In rhythm to my racing heart, she tread across the hardwood with both elegance and malice embed within each step—for a moment I marvel at her figure, only then would the form hidden behind legs of six appear. Concealed for a moment by near opaque wings, a horn of black mounts her posterior, poised for purposes harmful yet unclear.
In tandem, for a moment’s time, we halt—a staring match made unfair, as she is without eyelids, reflecting in those glossy dodecahedrons, a dozen images of myself, the fixation of her thought. Whether it is escape or advance she seeks matters not, as my mind processes the world far faster, reflexes diminished in return.
Scrambling for the fly swatter across the hall and below the telly, from the corner of my eye she scurries—fruitful if not for my knowledge of this attempt. In holding the flexible plastic, for but moment I feel omnipotent, the decision to enact mercy or violence to be executed at the careful flick of the wrist. For a moment I consider it, capture and release of this insect queen intruding on my palace, to gift internment instead of euthanasia. The decision made at last by a glimmer of light, bouncing off that sharpened hook. Thus, the whip cracks against her skull not once but thrice—assuring that despite her thick build, death comes swiftly and wholly. By the wing I pluck her from between the floor’s cracks, and leave her to rot within the dust bin, amongst chip and cough drop wrappers.
In tandem, for a moment’s time, we halt—a staring match made unfair, as she is without eyelids, reflecting in those glossy dodecahedrons, a dozen images of myself, the fixation of her thought. Whether it is escape or advance she seeks matters not, as my mind processes the world far faster, reflexes diminished in return.
Scrambling for the fly swatter across the hall and below the telly, from the corner of my eye she scurries—fruitful if not for my knowledge of this attempt. In holding the flexible plastic, for but moment I feel omnipotent, the decision to enact mercy or violence to be executed at the careful flick of the wrist. For a moment I consider it, capture and release of this insect queen intruding on my palace, to gift internment instead of euthanasia. The decision made at last by a glimmer of light, bouncing off that sharpened hook. Thus, the whip cracks against her skull not once but thrice—assuring that despite her thick build, death comes swiftly and wholly. By the wing I pluck her from between the floor’s cracks, and leave her to rot within the dust bin, amongst chip and cough drop wrappers.
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