Friend had a terrible, awful feeling. She spotted a white owl, which stared at her with its sharp, dark eyes. It did not blink once before flying off into the night sky. Friend had to get to Herself without delay.

Dear Herself:

Arriving, chicken
soup in hand,
Friend immediately
saw Herself was
way beyond
the chicken
soup stage.

Briefly, Herself's
head lifted
and stared
unblinkingly
into Friend's eyes.
Her cuticles
were bloody
and raw.

Slowly, Friend approached,
sat down behind Herself
on the floor, curled
around her
balled up body,
laid her head against
Herself's back and rocked,
... rocked back and forth
with her.

This will be
Herself's chicken soup
for now.

04/15/2006

Author's Note: Writing this in conjunction with Friend.

Posted on 04/15/2006
Copyright © 2025 Kyle Anne Kish