Christopher Barnes

from The Electric Chair Poems

Hostile verdicts on your faults – placarded.
This resting-place for fleeting portraits
Totters us with stomach butterflies,
Grizzly-fallow blush of your remains.
Blind-corner eyes misapprehend.
Gratify caution, be clay-cold, not dare-devil.
Somewhere, devastations may even mist.
Bandy scraggy thorax hairs,
Pitch unanswerable time.
Execution right-handed you as an upshot.
Direct currents are now set down.

Death Power
As all round offs are
Rumbling the dissolving spot is grave;
Score settling pulps neutrality.
Yours is the strapped-in scream.
They’ve got mains-operation to a knack
And have gone for felons to fix
In an awfully down-to-earth world.
As Pavlovian slaver
Seizes a jerk,
Civil are authorities
Who have you hugged by the electric wasp.

Christopher Barnes © 2012