Finally Gone

"i need help,"
she said.
and i pictured
the raccoon we saw,
its insides exposed,
leaving a trail
where tires carelessly
drew rushed lines.
i drew a rushed line
from my mouth:
"i am so sorry."
i grabbed her hand,
fumbled with it,
wet clay in my palm.
"let's go.
let's get you what you need."
we flew above the scene
as shapeless ghosts.
below, we saw the raccoon,
reborn,
running away
from its shell,
safe for the moment,
and everything became
smaller and smaller
until it was finally gone.