Judging by the Jury’s Executioner’s Remorse, There Are Many Others Who’ve Gotten Away with Far Worse

Noose waxed with flesh, candlestick drips of
disrespect melt to cataract rivulets denial exists
to sweat as fingertips press imprints like
lips onto necks this lace counteracts and
corrects the break of quick, this flickering
suturing together of head to circumstance, perception
a step, a lock, in the canal
regret passes along until it forgets this
is not the only moment we can
cut from memory’s gallows and let live.