The Hanging

His unshaven jowls quiver, and his lip trembles, In his eyes, his rheumy eyes, simmers horror, Revulsion at the memory, this old man, what he Knows he has done and can never forget. “Do it now!” the death’s head swine commanded, “Kick it away.” And the young man said: “No.” “Do it now, Juda, or someone else will. And you will be shot.” And the young man repeated: “No!” With the crude hemp chaffing red his malnourished throat, The noose rigid and tight, his friend met his gaze, Cool as a fjord in the moonlight, his eyes said it all, The nod merely a punctuation mark, a full stop of assent. The old man bleeds tears in the here and now, Crying today, praying for absolution every hour of his life, Haunted forever by the burn of a Luger barrel on his neck, When he kicked the rusting bucket away…