Explore Poems GO!

The Electric Chair

The silence silences, as if explain. caught, and now, caught again, caught up with by the past. After twenty-five years here, at last. The end crowns the work. The witnesses are like this poor waxwork, as if them the crown was designed to kill, but even more, shockingly, still, until his, despite the straps, nervous twitching stops, Then some suddenly gasp, like him. Of the rich purple and scarlet trim of the blotches and the trickle of blood nothing can yet be seen, or should. To shudder, To think they leave-as they leave- unlinked.
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

4/15/2021 10:40:51 PM # 1.0.0.559