Saturday In The Town Square Poem by Stan Petrovich

The women gather are dressed to the nines;
Floral designs of cornpetal blue and lace
Adorning their cool blouses.

A black pit holding fire
Smoulders and is left to burn, on the side,
Offering smoke to the pellucid air.

A newly made gallows stands,
And a very tall man in a tall hat,
With an axe and a black mask,
Takes his place-
He is in charge.

A large crowd gathers, talkative
And unashamed, in a hurry though.
They lead out shackled red-faced Rudy who
Looks like he has a belly full of gin,
But he really has a gut full of regret.

Exactly at eleven the tall man
In the black mask chops the rope around Rudy's neck.
Dropping hard and snapping his neck.
He uncleans his pants quietly.

What a fine thing for a town to do
On a bright crystal Saturday morn;
They split into two groups,
Some laughing loudly,
Some shouting and hollering for more.

At last the fire is out
And no more smoke sullens the square;
The next day being Sunday,
The day of peace, forgiveness, prayer.