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Confession of a Serial Killer
they wheeled me in like a busted fridge
metal bolts, the stink of bleach
my hands were calm for once—
you'd think I'd scream,
but I'd already done all my screaming.
a priest mumbled junk at me—
I asked for a cigarette,
he gave me god instead.
the guards were kids
shaking like leaves
they strapped me tight
like I was gonna run.
I looked at the bulb overhead—
thought of the girl in Idaho,
how she laughed
before I broke her neck.
I almost cried.
almost.
they stuffed cotton in my mouth,
clamped that steel cap down
like I was a bad battery.
somebody puked.
someone else prayed.
me? I grinned.
the juice hit—
a million volts of penance.
my spine tried to climb out,
my teeth danced,
my bowels gave up.
and still
it didn’t feel like enough.
not even close.
Copyright ©
James Mclain
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