Читать книгу Twisted Shapes of Light - William Jolliff - Страница 9

When you think of all the ways to kill a man,

as I sometimes do,

you see pretty soon that some ways

take you away from your fellows and kin

while others throw you in, all in.

There’s the twisted pharmaceutical weirdness

of chemical injection—

something as lovely as the rest before sleep

puts a dark cloak over its hollow-eyed head

and the next thing you know, some poor boy’s dead.

And once I saw a film-maker’s version of the chair,

in Texas I suppose,

and you know right away why they use the hood—

you could see the body, not quite human,

wrench its twisting self into a pained oblivion.

I’m not quite sure why Romans used crucifixion

to murder our Lord,

but if the pictures and the pendants tell the truth,

He died with His spirit already on the rise,

His arms spread as wide as the look in His eyes.