To the Greek Girl on Forest Street
(notes from the back of an ambulance)

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become
the monster. And when you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you"
                                                                                            —Nietzsche

I see you're making love again.
Your father's razor's sharp
but still you miss the bone beneath.

You'll reach for me, my pretty one.
And when I tie your hands
you'll learn to turn your head and bite

your own left shoulder blade. Someday
you'll cry. I will not teach
you how to rub the salt into

your scars. I'll be your morphine drip.
I'll keep the scalding saline for
my own sweet secret self.

Copyright © 2005 Laura Heidy All rights reserved
from Pebble Lake Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission