History remembers

That the Public Executioner very rarely wore a mask

Why conceal your identity

When everyone already knows who you are?

He stood somberly

Bronze Heading Axe in his hand

Waiting for that precisely timed moment

When he would deliver the death blow

That the community had decided upon

And he had been quite badly paid for

The Future will sing songs

Of present day Public Executioners

Failing to wear masks

Unaware and oblivious to the fact

That they have positioned themselves

Near the block

Standing together, laughing

Brazenly sipping from the flat white latte in their hands

Completely ignorant to the randomly timed moment

When they would deliver the death blow

That the community had given up on

Which hadn’t even cost them a single thought

Reassured by the fact

That they wouldn’t be anywhere near

The Scene of the Crime

When that last fateful breath was taken

[For another poem titled ‘Those People’ click here]