He was taken from his cell, stripped, blindfolded,
And marched to a noisy room that smelled of sweat.
Someone stamped on his toes; his scream was stopped
By a lemon violently pushed between his teeth
And sealed with friction tape behind his head.
His arms were tied, the blindfold was removed
So he could see his tormentors, and they could see
The so-much-longed-for terror in his eyes.
And one of them said, "The best part of it all
Is that you won't even be able to pray."
When they were done with him, two hours later,
They learned that they had murdered the wrong man
And this made one of them thoughtful. Some years after,
He quietly severed connections with the others
Moved to a different city, took holy orders,
And devoted himself to serving God and the poor,
While the intended victim continued to live
On a walled estate, sentried around the clock
By a youthful, cell phone-linked praetorian guard.
Poetics, Perception, Disinterestedness: An Online Notebook
Showing posts with label hecht. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hecht. Show all posts
Monday, June 30, 2008
Garrison Keillor Reads Anthony Hecht
Garrison Keillor reads The Ceremony of Innocence from Collected Later Poems (2004) by Anthony Hecht.
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