our governor knows that there is no afterlife
he stands in his suit,
blue tie hanging like a noose,
smiling with dead teeth,
signing papers that send
another man, another woman,
into the dirt.
our governor knows
there is no afterlife—
he isn’t sending them to heaven,
he’s sending them to rot.
if he believes in the Bible,
he’s forgotten the line:
thou shall not kill.
no grey area, no loophole.
he pretends justice,
but it’s only blood on his hands.
death is not justice.
it’s silence,
it’s the shutting of doors
that never reopen.
it should weigh
like iron on his skull,
like stones in his gut.
but the man eats your steak
with no indigestion,
wipes his mouth with his hand.
what does his wife see
when she lies beside him?
does she hear the whispers
of the buried,
the cries of mothers?
and worse—
he sharpens her name
for the next ballot,
preparing her face
to be plastered on walls.
unwanted, unloved,
another mask of power,
another hand raised
to press the button,
to pull the lever,
to kill again
who would kill again and again,
for ten million dollars.
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