©2006 – Allen Sutterfield
And given over to the guards She went silently, the dark Hood dull in gleam of axe Stood still with eyes only:
Wood planks reflected steps Towards a doom, resounded As in a hollow room her quietness, Paler than moon her face
Took the gazes unsmiling And aloof: the sun watched, Played on the sparkling blade: People watched suddenly afraid:
One clean swish through air Tight with unbreathing and wish Of high men severed the sun In clotted fact: dead: done.
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