Capital Punishment Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Wept the Lord on her doorstep,

“But I loved you for
A burning summer;
The lonely feeling lasted:
We laid naked on the barren field.
There the speckled serpent curled
In the grass in the
Warmth hugging
Of an unexplored tree,
Promised evil
While I was fertile;
Laid off,
Then I could only look
Back on you,
The little girl hiding
In her woman’s form.
In the mute chorus
They harvested bitterness
In the meat of sweet dreams
Up and down the rows
Collected by Nubian grandmothers:
Unfeeling shadows,
Unborn children:
You drank away
With your luxury
While in the background they
Paid their quarters to hear
Our song,
The illegal mariachis;
What would it have been?
Baby, do you know what
You did today?
Baby, do you know what
You took away?
I don’t believe in capital punishment,
Baby,
But, for something like this,
You should have been killed.”