(no subject)

[_slavetothewage]

the fireworks blasted over the prison-and
the flowers reached up like ten thousand hands
reaching for something beyond themselves

and there in the shadows and the fog and the smoke
stood seven, heads down- feet touching, naked

(a fat woman, shaking from the sobs
a child, hands in prayer
a balding man, wishing he had been truthful
three girls with the same face but different tongues)

and then a woman- sharp, angular
so bright she reflects in the fog
and she stands tall, eye to eye
with her murderer
and when the shots were fired
her body fell last, hitting the wall- sliding down slowly