First Cut

by Michael Getty

The glint of the scalpel in your lovesick eyes told me all I needed to know   how you savored the first cut   the pooled blood   the boarded-up porch  I left a note that read  who am I to stand in the way of such a poignant romance?  and I walked   I told myself   you will grow tired of the strip-mining  tired of dragging heavy limbs through trailer parks  but you didn’t  and soon left notes of your own  Bloodless traitor  you wrote   dyke   faggot

I meant to tell you
I saw them
unearth our testaments
note the stains
catalog all the rest

Michael Getty is a writer and educator who lives with his husband in St. Louis, Missouri. His writing has appeared in PresenTenseThe Healing MuseThe Road Not TakenTurnip Truck(s), and is forthcoming in Poetica.

Photo by: Ana Prundaru