The Abjuring

The nozzles shone
Under the first light of the day;
‘A fine day isn’t it’
Said the commissioner
With a chuckle hovering on his lips
I was not to smile back
But I did.

I was to make a speech,
Or perhaps shake with an unknown dread
The dread for unknown,
Or should I have sniveled
Praying for mercy and compassion
To the world, to lord almighty,
To fingers upon the triggers,
To all things above me?

‘Any last word’
The commissioner asked me
Before authorizing
The final command.
I stared back at him
Taking a long hard look
At the rifles pointed at me
Aimed at my heart
Ready to pierce me with
The minimal indication
Of a small nod.

“Yes,” I said, “I would like to sit.
Half lying position I would take
Leaning on a pillow
To face your wrath
’cause it’s not worth
Facing standing up.”


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