Execution

I remember your letter of gun metal,

How I read it between my ribs

Before I could stand to see it.

 

I was executed for the fifth time that day,

Convulsing in a pool of my own heart music,

Staccato on the antiseptic floor.

 

Control is between your thumbs.

 

Make your skin detectable.

Thank you.

 

One day it will be as a mirror.

 

If you are writing again,

use the electrical font.