THE SMILE OF THE HANGMAN

At the clink,
flashing through a shower of faces,
his sagging scourge slouched behind his bum.
My eyes grew nervous
and shifted after every visible meet.
The old man selling flowers walked towards him.
Dripping sepals and petals left trails for his descendants.
Suddenly, I became aware of their fragrance.
They seeped into my nostrils, choked me,
left me sick and alone and afraid-
for the next-unknown roll of travelers.
He shook hands with the hangman,
noticed how warm those hands were with cold blood.
Then, I saw the hangman once again smile
like an angel from Berlin came over to deliver him
spic-and-span neckties.
I became already dead after every blemish air I whiffed-
the previous time I saw his smile
was when he fastened his halter
around his guilty son's neck, before our eyes and his altar.