Kill

Last night’s dreams were both about murdering, for some reason.

 

It’s on me.

Here in this wood-paneled

Room, with two friends I barely know,

Telling me

Our short and nasty new professor

Is nasty enough to kill.

But I have never had him,

And I am holding the sword.

Upstairs, he’ll be

Asleep in his room –

A quick slice or

Stab will do it.

But I return to them

Bloodless,

Unwilling.

We leave by moonlight,

Their disgust loud as crickets.