state Ruled Homicide in Florida carried out again
they strap him in like a free bank toaster —
leather belts immobilize the limbs,
the priest muttering fairy tales
while the switch man cleared his throat.
rectum stuffed with cotton--
next comes the electric hum —
Seventeen hundred volts--
a deep, angry silence —
then every nerve throws up
at once.
eyes cook and bulge behind the mask,
tongue swells like a drowning rat,
flesh jerks against the state’s approval
and no one flinches —
some of them are aroused.
the room smells like pennies and pork
and still —
some hack writes in the logbook:
“justice is served on a silver plate.”
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