The Slaughter

After 5 years 
Fatima hugs 
her sister Alma
under a gray sky.

The wind whips 
Fatima’s kerchief back
forming a mask 
that matches 
Alma’s dull stare 
into the browning 
field all around.

Alma feels only 
the roughness 
of the green blanket
wrapping itself 
around her,
sees the small farm 
in the distance
with farmhands
loading cattle into 
the slaughter car
and remembers 
the heifer’s head
on the side table 
amidst the 
Christmas Day feast.

She is trying 
not to remember
the blood 
on the floor
and in the sink
this morning- 

trying 
to find the words 
to tell Fatima
and finding none.

Only sadness and 
the slaughtering 
instruments neatly
placed on the table
fill her mind-

the breakfast egg 
that filled her hand
for a full minute
before she cracked it
exposing the cooked white
she could not eat.

She closed her eyes 
and thought she prayed
In the whirling dark
she was naked 
under the waterfall
and Alma, also naked,
was waving her 
to join her 
on the wooden float 
in the middle of the lake.