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ANOTHER LONG NIGHT



It was two AM and it had been a long night
a car wreck, a stabbing, two heart attacks.
She lay covered up to her chin with a sheet.
He introduced himself to her and her mother
who sat on a stool in the corner, an expression
of total numbness on her tired face.
He looked at her chart and it felt like a gut punch
when he read that she was only two years older
than his little girl home safe in bed that morning.

Her features were like a rare collector’s doll,
big, china blue eyes, long, dark lashes
to match her long, dark curly hair.
Her face so smooth and perfect except for
the contusions on her right cheek and
the finger marks around her slender little neck.
God only knew what marks were hidden by the sheet.
Her eyes were red from crying and she couldn’t
look him in the face when he called her name.

The last thing she needed emotionally was another man
looking at her body, touching her in private places
but the police must have their photos of all the
contusions and abrasions, and lacerations
the necessary physical evidence and DNA samples.
He asked the nurse to bring her the “Pill”
and a tranquilizer to relax her for the ordeal ahead
then he took her little hand in his large one.
It was cold and shook uncontrollably from shock.

Finally her eyes met his and he watched the tears
sliding onto her cheeks. He was a strong man,
a professional who had seem more in the ER
than he ever wanted to remember but scenes like this
cut him to the core of his being every time.
“Will be alright Baby Girl,” he said squeezing her hand
but he knew it never would really be alright for her again.
He would be a rock of calmness for her, a gentle touch.
He would make this as easy as possible for her
treat her with the same respect and tenderness
he would want his own little girl to be handled with,
but inside he was seething with rage and
exploding with angered thoughts of the justice
of castration and decapitation.




©1/18/2006 Don Juan Amante