Monday, May 13, 2013

V. 2, #46: May 13, 2013

We helped the doc move boxes--homemade crates
of pine and cedar. Research cores, he said,
extracted from some cave, encased in lead,
and stored. He paid us twice our normal rates.

The next day Peter's leg began to swell.
His foot took on a sickly greenish hue.
The doc said there was nothing he could do
but get some rest and hope all would be well.

And now it's been three days since we've seen Pete,
and one since paramedics found remains
they think must be the doc's, but can't be sure.
But worse: they found footprints out to the street,
three-toed and clawed, that match the bloody stains
I tracked to Pete's apartment's splintered door.


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