Sara shed no tears

as she stepped around the body

slumped in the rolling chair

to pull the knife buried deep

out of the head

and rinse it in water so hot

it dropped

from her hands

before scrubbing vigorously

with a heavy-duty scrubbing sponge

before putting it in the dishwasher

along with the breakfast dishes

 

before she rolled the chair to the car

and drove it to the drop off

to push it over the cliff

and watch it burn

 

before she biked home

to bleach the blood from the floor

and scrub at the stains with a strong brush

and rinse with boiling water

and dry with old rags

before taking the rags

to the neighbors’ trash can

that would be picked up

at 7 am tomorrow

 

before she thanked God

the floor was white linoleum

and not tile with cracks

where – something –

might fall in

 

as she huddled on the sofa

holding her 10-year-old

who had learned long ago

to fear the fall of his own tears

who whispered, “Sorry, Mom.”

 

as they waited for the sunrise

before calling Missing Persons

Sara shed her tears

for him