Wash Ya Hands

You Dirty Bitch

Tatiana Marshal

66
 Garret 2020
Casualties
Wheels against the concrete, our butts against the seats; we’re almost home
Then… Clunk
It wasn’t the kids fighting or a walnut hitting the trunk.
It wasn’t our neighbor’s car backfire or another flat tire.
But then what?

Out of the car, one by one to inspect the damage

There’s our clunk: a mushy pile of gunk on the road
It makes our stomachs turn-- the intricacies of a body strewn across the road.
It makes our eyes burn to think that it’s our load to bear

So what do you do to get rid of a body,

Backyard acid bath?
White tied bonfire?
No, we decide to bury the hairy clump of guts like a mummy next to her own hidden
treasure

The pallbearer is my brother, who decides that a shovel will do the trick.
With all prudence and gall, he goes to lift the body-- but he can’t
Determined, he goes at it again with a little less prudence and a running start
All he manages is to slide our bloodied prey down the driveway, leaving streaks on the
concrete

The next attempt is to trap this dripping mess on the lip of the curb. Drip, drip, drip
“Get underneath it and scoop it up” I yell
Well, he never really listened to me anyway because instead of scooping, he’s now flinging
the now widespread dead sac of beans

But you know what, that lucky squirrel does what everyone dreams of: it flies.
Through the sky, over the neighbors’ droopy smiles, spraying what’s left of it’s vitals like a
crop duster in the sunset.

Nora Sjue
67