The Sound of Closure

The late show flickered blue.

Popcorn buttered on my sleeve.

Then, quick, on the screen, a new

shot: dark plastic, a gurney,

and that sound.

zzzzzzzzip.

Harsh. Final.

A kind of ripping.

Through the cheap speakers, it came,

and settled in my chest, a cold flame.

I didn't turn away fast enough.

The empty bag, the body gone.

Just that sound, a hook,

pulling all night long.