I killed her again last night. I haven’t killed her in nearly a year, so I feel like that’s an improvement. I used to kill her far more often. And in far more grisly ways. (Last night I simply failed to warn her that she was getting too close to the slippery cliff’s edge; failed to reach out a saving hand when I could have easily done so.)
This is just a reminder that I’ll be killing her again—in print, this time—in less than two weeks at Your One Phone Call. Killing That Bitch Again (one of those exorcism poems that poets occasionally just have to write) should appear on October 5th.
I guess it’s the impending publication that made me dream of letting her do the cliff-fall last night.
The fact is: she’s probably already dead. Who is she, you ask? It doesn’t matter. I know who she is. She knows who she is.
And if she isn’t already dead, I’ll be Killing That Bitch Again on 10/5 at Your One Phone Call.