29th September, '06

Slowly he shuffles along
the carpeted green mile
to his seat, where, white-knuckled,
he struggles
in vain with the buckle
for a while,
until the stewardess trots
ivory-horse like
up the aisle,
and stands patiently
by his side.

“Nervous?” He nods.
“First time?” she asks, with that knowing
feline smile
that he has grown accustomed to.
“No,” he assures her,
“I've been nervous before.” Finally,
she relents
and leans forward,
snapping him into place
with an efficient click.
All that was left now was the moist sponge
to be placed on his head
“Quick and painless please,”
he said,
as a drop of sweat slid down his face
and he waited for darkness.

***

Darkness,
like that which slowly descended
on Charles Justice
in 1909,
when he found himself
strapped to the same chair
he had helped design
eleven years before
while a prisoner
in the Ohio State Penitentiary.*

A cruel twist of fate,
that he
no doubt reflected upon,
minutes before the current
swelled through his veins,
short-circuiting one organ
after another,
rendering his body
a hollow shell.
The smell
of death
wafted through the chamber,
as attendants gathered
up bits of justice
scorched.

*Charles Justice designed metal clamps to replace the leather straps on electric chairs, thereby allowing for the inmate to be secured more tautly and minimize the problem of burnt flesh. These revisions were incorporated into the chair and Justice was, a few months later, released on parole. He was subsequently convicted for murder and returned to prison on a death sentence.