Death Row Poem by Ryan Brodesser

On and off

The lights flicker eerily in the cold night.

The slight jingle of the guards keys, a pause, then a cough.

I am ready.

The door swings open, the guards stand clear, impatient.

The long shirt, that segregates me from the rest of life is put on and pulled tight

I am the next patient

The next to die.

But, I shall not whimper, nor shall I cry.

I am lead through the hallway.

This is the day.

Another door is pushed open

A lone man in a priest’s uniform stands at ready.

He begins a long speech, a bible in his hand is held steady.

He asks me to confess my sins, Where shall I begin?

Minutes later, I leave and enter another room.

A crowd, they stare at me

This is the sight, the horrible man, they’ve been waiting to see.

To Die in a chair.

Electricity to run through my head and hair.

The shackles feel heavy but I move on.

I sit down. The straps are tightened down.

A metal cap put on my head

Death's crown.

A women in the crowd voice rings out clear as a bell.

“I hope the furnaces are burning bright for you in hell! ”

They ask for any last words before what here is begun.

I said I was sorry for who I am and for what I had done.

The executioner nodded when I was through.

Then he said, “ roll on two! ”

Next thing I knew I saw my charred body below, slumped in the chair.

As I climbed the holy stair.

Upon my arrival there

Saints and sinners, the dead who were waiting

Stopped and stared.

A name is called out

It is mine.

Saint Peter, looks at me and did frown

Pushed a button and next thing I knew, I was through a hatch and being sent down.

Here I am now, screaming over a huge roasting fire.

Gone to hell after my bosses eternal nagging and scolding

Which rose my inflamed ire.