What does that tattoo say
That’s my baby’s name
What is your baby’s name
UTOPIA

Is this the tattoo that says Utopia
No, this is the tattoo that says Real Men Eat Pussy

I could have told you not to ask

Jugged her jugular

The jury’s collective shudder

You behave, he told her, before he cut her neck

It is not alone the meaning of sorrow and its beauty
          but the ongoingness of things that so impresses me

The old dirty-word tattoos are blotted over by a blur of birds

At the death row spiritual seminar banquet
          the men shackled just at the ankles
And to look around the room at all the families at table
          it could be anywhere

Yes, there’s a woman on the row
          I recall         she did her partner
And I don’t remember who else
          When she walks        the yard is cleared

Delivered the long-awaited letter
          setting date and time of executions
to the wrong damned man
          I shit you not

Come nearer       there is no emptiness

Yes it’s bitter      every bit of it bitter