mr hait's complete and total loss

six foot ten
mr hait did stand

towering over
the little k9 on the table below him

a terrier mix

and all lights upon him
his chest cut open
the escalating beep
of a heart monitor

evasive surgery
taking place

everything he knows
twenty years of experience
commanding his hands

the room alive
with vet techs

with support

and then
after every effort

with surgical tools in hand

after every proposed solution

a solid high-pitched sound
like a language censor

stuck on profanity

piercing the air
a red line on the machine
as flat as desert horizon

his eyes fixed off to a corner of the room
his eyes

wet with tears

"i can't fix this"

he says
barely finishing his sentence

the heart monitor
turned off

the bustle of the room
having died

as well as mr hait's best friend

the only piece of his life
that had ever made any sense