Wednesday, 5 March 2014

At the Flick...

Can words haunt?
Dulcet tones,
cushions for grey walled catacombs.
Watching from behind, a
thinning pate,
side of crumpled brow,
white knuckles (always) visible
Phones proffered –
direct dials to deliverance
from evil.
Can silence torture?
Words blur, hushed pleas,
bargains of the damned.
Forgive them, for they know not
what they do.
Can signals span eternity?
A nod (mine) to live with ‘til
the end of time.
Watching from behind, I
shield my soul
from that final snap.
Their eternal (un)forgettable
Forgive me, for I knew not
what to do.

Electric Chair Haunts US Former Executions Chief

©Carolyn Cornthwaite

Carolyn messes with paints and words and detests it when her creative flame refuses to flicker.