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Postmodern Village
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Electrocution
by Mary Ocher

To the chair,
To the gas, to the gas,
to the fire,
To the gulling grip of the mass.
be it shameful, be it rare.
The all-consuming hell,
And the flames, small, they turn
Laughing jauntily, at our paralyzing roar,
powerless, slimy, morose,
The fire laughs, then so it goes
A flair streams up the spine,
To the head, to the mind,
To the chair,
To the gas, to the ground.

 

Mary Ocher was born in Moscow, grew up in Tel Aviv and is now living in Berlin.