IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE LAW
Louis Faber
They shot him at the appointed hour
he sat against the wall
and stared back at them
a thought etched on his tongue.
They placed him gingerly
in a row with the others
and wondered how an idea
which they killed, like a cat
renewed itself and lived,
lighter than a last breath
did it cling to the surface
of the lead shell
or spread, virulent
across fields where once
they tilled the soil
with blistered hands.
He died suddenly, I said,
that was all, he died suddenly,
I told her, nothing more
but his last words
nip at the edge
of my consciousness
slowly eating through
barriers hastily erected,
the clock on the mantle
ticks slowly forward.