Executioner
The
oak chair is oversized
Big
arms with leather straps
Like
the back and foot
The
chair’s bolted to the floor
No
spasm no flailing can move it
I
stand in the corner by the switch
Hidden
from witnesses seated behind
The
glass now blocked by a gray curtain
I’m
here because I bitched
About
my pay
I’m
here for an extra dollar an hour
Sold
my soul to the devil
She’s
escorted in
Doesn’t
struggle or freeze
Just
sits in the big chair
and
stares at me
I
delivered her last supper
Fried
pork chops
Cornbread
Black-eyed
peas
Apple
pie
After
I put the tray on the table
She
looked up at me
Smiled
Straightest
white teeth I ever seen
The
kind you want biting your lip
Sucking
your neck
She
broke the rule and touched my arm
No
hiding my goose bumps
My
twat gushed
I
like girls
Always
have
Sweet
lips soft pillows
She
has long sexy fingers
I’d
let in any day
They
strap her legs and feet
Her
arms and waist
Place
electrodes
On
her shaved right leg and shaved head
Her
eyes watch me while the curtain’s
Pulled
back
They
put a cloth over her head
Like
the Klan’s but black
I
want a hood over my head
The
clock moves to one minute
Before
midnight
I
cross my fingers
For
the phone to ring
For
the governor to call
Seconds
pass
The
warden reads the sentence
And
nods
I
flip the switch
Later
In
bed I’m drinking rum
Over
ice melting from my first drink
I
murdered a murderer
The
meal still puzzles me
She
didn’t look down-home
Or
sound down-home
And
those teeth sure weren’t God-given
I imagine her sitting at supper
Her
dead ex-husband
Her
dead ex mother-in-law
Sprawled
on the table
Maybe
on the floor
In
vomit from the poison she fed them
In
the fílé gumbo
Were
they still convulsing
When
she called 911
Reported
two murders
I
pull my hair under my nose
Lika
a mustache
I’ve
washed it three times
And
still it reeks of burned fat
Not
that I’ve never killed anything
I
used to shoot rabbits with my grandpa
And
watch him drain the blood before skinning
I
get out of bed
brush
my crooked teeth
Again
Rinse
with some rum
Take
the scissors
Chop
off my hair
And
shave my head
Till
I hardly feel the stubble
When
I slide my fingers over it
I
stare at the blade
Carry
the razor and rum back to bed
Close
my eyes
And
see her fingers
Those
lovely long fingers
Go
stiff
Then
Burn
to the bone
You
call me
bat
shit crazy
Cause
I don’t talk like you
Don’t
dress like you
Dolled
up
in
those fancy
Skirts
& tight sweaters
To
warm your tits
like
a stove
I’m
here to tell you I’ve been living
In
the back holler three weeks now
A
place you’re afraid to come
High
rock walls with ragged sunlight
Hiding
what you don’t want to see
I
love bathing in Cutter’s Creek
My
tits awash in bubbles fingertips
Squeezing
the nipples till my labia tingles
If
you were here
you’d
feel the water wash
Away
your sins skin smooth as a river rock
Rubbed
& tumbled over time
You
call me
bat
shit crazy again
&
I’ll
spit in your eyes my nails sharp enough
To
slice your veins
&
let the venom flow
Jump
in & I’ll show you how to love
Your
body
every
beautiful fucking inch
Mama
used to look at me hard
up
& down
Said
my body ain’t worth shit
Hips
that will never bear a baby
Tits
too small to feed anybody
Destined
to be a whore of Babylon
I
showed her
When
I turned fifteen
I
gave my vagina
To
anybody who wanted to climb in
Sometimes
it felt like Noah’s Ark
Happy
folks coming & going about
as
turned
On
as
you can get swimming in a righteous flood
Even
my Sunday School teacher says
Jesus
Wants
you
to
spread the good word
however
you can
Once,
Mama
caught us
in
the garage at night
Miss
Jones moaning & screaming
a
cat in heat
Mama
flashed a bright light on my bouncing head
Before
I could pull the army blanket up
She
didn’t say a word &
slammed
the door
I
figured she’d lock me in for a month
So
headed up Hopper Holler
Been
living off squirrels & roots since
Small
gray hides drying in the sun
Love
life here but
come
Saturday
will
head home
Sling
that cross round my neck & shine like a sinner born again
Sit
on a hardwood pew Sunday
Mary
& Jesus my BFFs
After
I drink the blood of Christ
&
eat some of his holy flesh
I’ll
feel his blessed light on my shoulder
His
warm caress & sing his praise
Until
the sun drops its night cover
&
the stars hide their brightness
Then,
I’ll
climb back out the window
To
find you
once
more
Dropping
Breadcrumbs on the Rocky Path to Pisgah Gorge Falls
Where
the Mist
Tastes
Like
the Sweat on Your Neck
You’re the woman I love with skin like paper never written on & giggling under cascades
You’re the woman I love
in front of the Tesla dealership holding the cardboard sign you made last
night DOWN WITH MUSK DAWN TO DUSK
You in sunlight &
darkness
You in candlelight
You tattooed on my heart
in my arms under Mama’s double wedding ring quilt
You composed in
stars Pisces swimming in two directions
upstream & down
You’re the woman I love
You make Yankee
cornbread
Your sweet tea isn’t
sweet enough
You can’t deep fry for
shit
You won’t hold hands in
public
You won’t hug in public
You won’t even
The woman I love
pirouetting from wall to wall in your frayed pink toe shoes
Still lamenting too tall
for a real ballerina waltzing me to the
end of time
You’re the woman I love
fiercely: corseted closeted ashamed
You writing poems when
the wind blows through you sealing our
love with unofficial ink
You Irene Lindau teaching me to say love in Hebrew Ahava
& I love you Ani ohevet otakh
You’re the woman I love
sobbing at the kitchen table for the hostages & murdered
You’re the woman I love
sobbing for the starving & bombed
Your breath smells of
sour mash as I kneel beside you
Your hand is cold
Your tears hot
You stirring borscht on
a cold November night asking what my
Choctaw granny cooked
You dreaming of your
mother still tugging at your heartstrings & you plucking her chin hairs
You’re the woman I love
cutting my toenails & eyeing my chin hairs
You’re the woman I love
chastising me for coming out hiding me
in your weathered arms
Looking too long at me
Rubbing my shoulders
Walking arm in arm
You throwing your head back cursing
when ICE men on horseback occupy
MacArthur Park filled with kids at day camp
& all the green grass stomped down you ask
if I remember we left the cake out in the rain
you ask if this is what our fathers fought for
You’re the woman I
love singing Joni’s Blue over bubbling
broth reaching for a case of me
You’re the woman I
love reciting Audre then Adrienne
You talking about your
grandpa returning home to Russia after the Workers Revolution
Your grandma too
depressed to stay
You asking how mine
survived in Alabama her ancestors raped
of body & land
You’re the woman I love
fighting for justice & reparations & brushing my hair straight to
glisten
You’re the woman I love
calling congress reps & emailing letters
You wearing the Star of
David next to your skin over your heart scratching my tit
when we make love
You bloom in the lawless night when stars offer no exit
You planting sunflowers
for Ukraine
Watering & watching till their sprouts break through then watching
& watering till they rise
Sun on a stalk
the
door will fly open for three couples of homeless flamingos
to walk to the center
tuck one leg under their
plumes
wait for me
I
raise both windows until cloudless blue appears
If
I were a goddess
I would make it
impossible for you to live
without my scent
You
left and haven’t called
The only lover who ever
said
Don’t lie down and
die Paint
Will
I be able to paint again?
Painting smells of love
In
Harper’s I read one hour’s walk for
three hours work stimulates endorphins
I hike to Point Dume Beach where
the tide splashes my feet
leaves bubbles between
metatarsals
kisses between shoulder blades
I
sling burnt umber across remembered eyes
wash my room in
eggshell
From
the closet I pull out
another box of earth
colors
Your
fingers move slowly
the wall melts
russet runs down
seeps through
floorboards
Your
palm slides over my back
pauses to rub the skin
where
the strap irritates
The
door squeaks shut
When
a kid I kept running away from home
to see if Mama still
wanted me
Never far
always the corrugated
camp near Sunset
I
drank chicory with Maggie
chalked flamingos on
the concrete
Tall
yellow legs
long pink feathers
necks curved right
beaks black as tarpits
Maggie
called them beautiful
they’ll keep your place
Janet Hall: a novel https://www.amazon.com/Janet-Hall-Chella-Courington/dp/B0DGL869MS/
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