Firing Squad

slap-slap, slap-slap
out of the cell again
slap-slap, slap-slap
up against the wall
in front of the guns
muzzles leveled
staring at Satan's --
or was it God's? --
minions, he couldn't remember
Ki-ki-boom!  Ki-ki-bam!
a figure falls to the ground
twilight gathering
no sharp jerk for him, no
sudden leap into glorious
but a soft, subtle shading
of shadow
the sun leaking out of 
his bursted chest
leaving the carrion
for the stars.

** My book of poetry is now available at amazon: **

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