As they stood her
On the trap floor,
Put the eyeless
Hood over her
Head and the noose
Of rope around
Her fragile neck,
She suddenly
Realised that all
Those mornings with
Their dawn chorus
Of birds and late
Nights with those fond
Lovers, all those
Days when she could
Have done better
Or have lived less
Selfishly, those
Moments before
She knifed her last
Lover for his
Betrayal when
She could have just
Walked away, were
About to be
Rolled into a
Tight ball like her
Tense fists and all
Would go loudly
Pop inside her
Dying head when
The trapdoor at
Her feet opened
For the dark drop.
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