A Beheading

			
In thinking of the heedless heathen
Who, for his lack of wit, lost the
Promise of its vessel’s fill
 
The executioner’s axe fell,
And so too the onlooker’s eye
Tracing its arc through the summer sky
 
The axe bit oak and tasted slaughter
A lady or two became excited
And mimed with their bodies the heathen’s head.
 
Step over his shins, twin spires
Over the floor-boarded abyss.
 
Look at his eyes, rolling pearls
Look at the body, small
Look at and past the court