On Edge

He took out the gun, snubby nosed, emitting oily fumes,

“Burglaries in the neighborhood, you might need this.

I’m sorry I’ll be away. This is the safety catch.”

He pointed at something and loaded the gun.

She touched the gun after he left.

The cold metal burned her fingers.

Its heaviness was almost a shock.

Its possibility of power touched something,

Something she had tried to bury and forget.

There was no safety catch for memory.

He returned.

She asked him to hide the gun..

She could deal with burglars, what could they possibly take?

She had her dogs; they would love and protect her.

Certainly, they were her safety catch.

Without them, she would have used the gun,

Enticing to think of finishing things.

He would never knew how close she’d come,

But she had her dogs, and she wouldn’t leave them.

She held their furry paws and felt their beating hearts

And smiled.