Sancrosanctity Kristen Larson
First, I asked casually, the suffering made me, it’s the law here anyway, to assist the dying to kill themselves. Later I offered and meant it. Chest crushed, shallow tight love fear. I offered to just kill her no red tape or permission. No honey, pinched eyes watered, I couldn’t let you live with that knowledge the rest of your life. Three weeks later, three May weeks, still dark dawn, the birds had returned and were singing for their lives, when she was trying to breathe what they called Death Rattle. I pulled the dropper from the white bottle with all of its tiny warnings and plopped, plopped, plopped four months worth of dose under her bark-skinned tongue.
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Published on Apr 21, 2010