One jabbed into the flopping forehead.
Another piercing flesh above right eye.
Skewer the lips and save the expression
goes the old French saying.
Maybe a short lance wedged beneath
the chin, holding that heavy jawbone in place,
and two coming at the throat from both sides,
gleaming like silver
once the blood is drained.
With one man for each spike,
hold it high above the masses,
until every jeer, every burst of righteous cackling,
can be the massive body
that head never knew it had.
We’ll parade it through the town,
the riotous mob encircling,
maybe a whistle stop tour of the entire country,
democratize the death of fear.
Yes, many are the uses were it not still fixed
so firmly to your body.
But all I can do is mutter beneath my breath,
one day you’ll get what’s coming to you.
A whispered threat…well that’s a kind of spear.

 

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Study For Head Held Up By Spikes by John Grey
originally published in the Spring 2012 print edition