Question of Execution

We find them in holes
Those who were so inflated
Gone to blood in the dust

What do you want? What did I do to you, my sons?

They ask what have you not

Sodomized with some unknown thing
We remember your fully outfitted operating room
Special for your amazons

That splitting pain
That casual mercilessness
That rank delusion

Quilted despair

That someone should die in such a way
That so many should die without dignity
That sovereign crimes remain immovable in time

Now they put your hair in an empty bottle
Now they swear to God that’s your sock tied to their gun
Now they drive over your face in the street

Their smiles so white against the dark

~ by Athena on November 17, 2011.

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