The Life of Margaret Pole

I. Countess of Salisbury who is daughter of Duke George who is brother to Edward III who is brother to Richard III or something of the sort. force her down gently like a daisy being prepared to be copulated. sickle glint sun slanting, first stroke: sorry, shoulder. II. vociferous old bat. at the sight of the block she wailed like a crumbling wind, as if to say that now the beasts could finally experience the sex of slaughter. III. grim reaper with fleshy face, unshaven cheeks, mottled with pubescence, trembling fragile fingers, a lil' chubby pudgypudge around the tummywummy, tiny pneumatic erection, caprice of the age, ittybitty worm alongside the tremendous axe. -let the boy swing the blade! IV. shoulder separated. plop it onto the market. two Pounds per lbs., what a sale. makes ground meat or roast or pulled pork or kielbasa. V. let's hope she made her atonement, for at any one moment, one can face attwoment. VI. noises like a gurgling guitar, spittle sounds, small and loud, resonating, tintinnabulating in the tympanum, crooked like a frog kicked into a pond, half-human, half-beyond. VII. some individuals may display mercy at this stage. -okay, you've been reprimanded sufficiently. you're free to go. VIII. usually and allegedly, most men have completed their job by eight strokes. the crowd has come upon the most precious of days. IX. as the neck just hang dangles, common as a tooth on harpstring fibers, justice begins to slick its greasy hair like the jetblack head of crime. X. it's as if they cried: encorencorencorencorencore encorencorencorencorencore XI. like many lives, it has lingered longer than expected. the throng has wearied, stomachs supplicate, the babies grow restless, feet throb, the citizens have not dressed for the moon's bluecool. -let's go home. one stroke before midnight.