In Florida, The Verdict Was Death Poem by James McLain

Red neck Decisions allowed to procreate.
Why?
When by electrocution
was to good for the man to be proper humane.
Across the street where I lived for seven years.
There was no stand up decision.
Directly, going for the center right before.
You never heard the prisoners grunts,
as his rectum was packed with two pounds of cotton.
Some of the guards stiff at attention come with excitement.
The flood of damage, the brains entire separation,
stripes of flesh rip is hit hard and so painfully.
Like a boxer over and over striking every where at once.
Or, witnessed the other way,
as the covered eyes for her are expanded some explode.
Raped of dignity,
brown smiles fingers larger than mine, walking and talking.
The place where it is, my friend of reluctance.
Around the circle of my mouth unseen,
my tongue is longer than any you have kissed.
What kind of lips give off the mirage which flickers?
Roll one is true then to roll three and four.
Until the advancement of D.N.A. came to late.
In Florida,
The Verdict Was Death what is it like to be White?
Atonement and I,
and to you a fond farewell, I send you each my greeting.