Hospital again, and though she is still unconscious it
is with relief he finds her room to be emptied of that apparatus upon which she
had until now been dependent.
Seen for the first time, her leg’s discolouring is only
emphasised by the white bedsheet upon which it rests outside the covers, the
bruising’s intensity and spread enough to suggest the flesh having been stamped
upon, or repeatedly beaten with something solid.
Brother Skunk stares at the variant hues, able to identify
in their abstraction distinct browns, greens, yellows, purples, and blacks,
unaware he is himself being watched.
ache1: Is that your thing then, are you a "leg man"?
He starts upon the words, which sound to provide her voice its first use in days, the room immediately altering around this new acoustic,
ache1: Is that your thing then, are you a "leg man"?
He starts upon the words, which sound to provide her voice its first use in days, the room immediately altering around this new acoustic,
ache1: Or do you prefer
and in his haste to cut her off surprises even
himself
Skunk (singing): “I’m a soul man”
his delivery so utterly tuneless and arrhythmic as to offset its emphasis so that he is already fast ablush ahead of her
his delivery so utterly tuneless and arrhythmic as to offset its emphasis so that he is already fast ablush ahead of her
ache1 (laughing with the least recourse
to musculature): You’re asshole man?
With a degree of relief that this much at least is finally over, he mutters through the fingers now covering his scarlet face,
With a degree of relief that this much at least is finally over, he mutters through the fingers now covering his scarlet face,
Skunk: Yes. Yes I am, so help me God.
