She asked him to hang up her coat,

Darling she added.

With thin, bony fingers she peeled it off.

Like the skin of an apple, it dangled from her sharp knife.

Vulnerable as a single white glove. 

Hopes, dreams, aspirations, woven into the thick fur.

She let go, disgusted by the putrid smell.

The deterrent dripped away.

Drip, drip—water from a faucet.

Dirty water.

A piece was left. 

Faux, a girl with her legs crossed sneered.

Fur clung to her dress,

With such mighty fingers it held, such obstinacy.

Afraid to let go, afraid to fall.

It could easily have matched her dress. 

But she brushed it off with a

Harsh, determined blow.

Averting her eyes from the pathetic sight of

It falling. 

She asked him for another drink,

No olive she drawled; he nodded, walking away.

She heard it, the coat,

Whimpering under the table, under the ashtray

Climbing up the table’s unshaven leg.

Someone turned off the lights.

Only in the dark would a heavy tear fall, burning the coat.

But she closed her eyes

And with a single red stiletto,

Pierced it.