r i g h t  h a n d  p o i n t i n g

 short poetry  short fiction   short...uh..art
 

 

     
  Mark Sawyer

What it Takes

 

 
Max rough
with the cut on his side,
panting and
restless as hell. Shaved,
inches of stitches,
breath hard and tentative
as blood, terror.
Her hands
white on his black,
sweet on his side,
guilty and tender
as Christ’s blood
shed again for the cause.
Both are committed
like love, slaughter,
blind obedience. Like all
there is.
They do what it takes.
 

 

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