Penn State York

“After the Killing” by Julie Cassel

After the killing
we drove to Lonestar for fajitas.
You ordered the steak; I,
the chicken.

You took a stab
at making me smile with an eight-week-old
bullshit joke, carefully raising your fork
above the plate, plunging
it into my heart.
There was a faint pop,
a distinct sizzling

Everything here okay?
It seemed a bit rare on the inside.

My belly ached
with regret
and you continued stabbing,
stabbing, stabbing your fork
into the meat
of my chest
a stake
to the heart, and I,
chicken shit,
lying bare on your plate.
You scooped me up between
thumb and pointer, placing
the remains
in a styrofoam box,
sliced up and half-eaten.

‘You okay?
I contemplated your execution.

After all, I am a murderess.