Ingrid Joachim

HOLLYWOOD EXECUTIONERS

sterile stage sets

fluorescent lighting

hospital gurney

for the ultimate

makeover

this is my debut

true crime actress

tabloid goddess

in dress rehearsal

for my coffin

ivory satin

rosewood

and peach lace

this is my big break

sleaze and glamour

chrome and silver

screen kiss or

screen tears

the latest starlet

hyped for the media

Hollywood executioners

and death row supermodels

incarceration blues

but the drugs are just

to die for

stuck here awaiting

lethal injection

if it was up to me

I'd rather fry -

so dramatic

increase the tension

but at least this way

I get to keep

my hair

swoon for the needle

drift sweetly off

to sleep

you've taken justice

and made it sexy

I'll save the interviews

for the afterlife.

MAMA GATOR'S CAJUN KITCHEN

She's all bons temps rouler

flushing pinker than the

shrimps all bubbling merrily

with rice and herbs

she smooths her hairnet

fluffs her apron

hums with the cassette

of that new band

whose hot accordion player

she's in love with

singing in the kitchen

keeping youngsters out

from under foot

with tastes and spoonfuls

richly spiced and nourishing

GOD BLESS THE CHILD

(IN MEMORY OF GARY GRAHAM, SEAN SELLERS AND JOSEPH JOHN CANNON)

a young man

no more than a little boy

when sentenced

fighting for his life

his breathing jagged

poisoned nerves

paying the state's price

a staged mock crucifixion

pierced stigmata

of a ruptured vein

the crime was never his

he never saw the one who died

or the weapon, for that matter;

even if he did it

he does not deserve

this clinical charade

or the governor's self-righteous

sham compassion

the audacity of you

elected by the people

standing up there

in your crisp pressed suit

and Sunday morals lined

with dollar bills

a hypocrite who dares to say

god bless the child

this is murder

just because the lynch mobs

have dispersed

the noose no longer dangles

from the branches

and your frying chair is only

now a movie prop

a fairground ride

a toy

doesn't mean your hands are clean

and bloodless

the victims that

you claim to have avenged

are still dead

their families still grieve

and now another mother

has to bawl her eyes out

at her son's graveside

try to glue the pieces

of her shattered world together

no restoration for the innocent

no chance for the guilty

to repent

make reparations

death with dignity, you say?

why not save your injections

for that pitiful old lady -

93 and cancer-riddled

begging for someone

to end her misery?

or that malformed baby

virtually brain-dead

kept alive by cruel machines

against his parents' will?

so typical!

your twisted logic

jails the mercy-killers

puts the executioner

in the White House

you have been judged

and been found wanting

had I the power

I would not demand you die

to make amends

for all those stolen lives

but condemn you to eternities of nightmares

hell on earth

seeing in the faces

of the executed

your own loved ones

or yourself.

THE MERMAID

slash coral

and vermilion

her nacreous pearl mouth

forcing mine open

undertow

aqua lustrous cling

her hair entwining me

in seaweed strands

flame and opal

glimmering of scales

submerged

flesh bare and smooth

and curving to enfold me -

so sweet to drown...

DOWN (SEPTEMBER 11TH, 2001)

all eyes were momentarily

a splintered blue

disintegrating skyline

a dismemberment of

agate, glass and spires

black lady wearing ashes

as implosion sped

the morbid lily downwards

ever down

chaos hit the sidewalk

as the orphans

of the subway screamed

into the camera's void

an open wound

of nothingness

a shellshocked sun

sank disemboweled and empty

ever down

RUTH'S CHAIR

one dream could not preserve

her luscious fullness

sleek with perspiration

and a lover's friction

lingering like musk

and violet perfume

on discarded silk

scalding steam

of prison showers

Ruth's sobs

like a ravished bride's

echoing macabre

against the dense

barred shadows

solid outstretched arms

and dangling straps

of she who waits

all life's golden lustre

drained to her chair

a lens to keep

the fragile moon at distance

from her wired throne

FIRE DRAGONS

under the sunrise

hatchlings greet the dawn

breathing an inferno

seared with gold-dust

alight with fiery scales

and sharpened amber horns

reaching for the red sky

garnet-encrusted claws

stretch and entreat

calling their mother homeward

to her nest

so they can take their first flight

over mountains bleeding flame

RUNAWAY BRIDES

you woke me

as the dawn unbound us

with the warmth of roses

kissing my neck

plaiting summer jasmine

through our hair

discarding your meringue

concoction of a gown

for seashell pink

lace petticoats;

veiled only in

the remnants of a moonrise

we wove the daisy-chains

of childhood through our dreams

made them alive

no vows needed

for our lips to softly meet

while dancing in the dunes

or frolicking bare-breasted

in the champagne foam;

sheltered from

blue-shadowed afternoon

I loved you in ways

your cold intended never would

licked the salt

and diamond water off your thighs

kissed the garnet-tinged

blood droplets

from my scratches on your skin

back at the white stone church

the guests grew anxious

and your bridegroom knew

with sinking heart

you were already wed

THE BALLAD OF DEATH ROW DIXIE AND CAIN THE DESTROYER

ageing raddled

Southern belle

tarnished gems enhance

insanity

lost girlish grace

and mildewed

trousseau frills

only her butcher-knife

still shimmers

blue-white band;

a searing coldness

hits your jugular

a sudden gush

of clotted

gurgling screams

slipped through the cracks

when her hour

for the hot seat chimed

gold to the governor

flight to the forest

crinoline

and misanthropy

ravens peck

the babies' eyes

daddy's carcass

swinging bloody on

her country porch

and that's not

'gator stew

in the pot

by any means

chained

in her basement

seven feet of

throbbing muscled hate;

homicidal boy-toy

aching in

his leg-irons

for her footsteps

for the key

he craves another spree

gore streaked warm

gelatinous

human entrails

littering

the cellar dust

decrepit villa ringed

by staked bones

and the heads

an offering to her

as he tongues

her splattered

high-heeled boots

lusting for pain

sweet madman Cain

as Miss Dixie mounts him

razor-bites him

as the sounds

of dying

echo through the swamp

BABY FARMER

a cottage full

of cribbed and

stirring infants

kitten-warm

in trust

small pudgy fingertips

brush my cheek

they beam

and bless my pillow

with their coos

mud-churning sleet

frost upon

the linen

hanging between ash

and air;

a stink of milk

and desecration

laudanum slips

too easily

feathery swallow

febrile twitch

one less

downiness

of crocheted

smothering wool

a tautened grip

could end their

drowsy maggot swaying

laudanum slips

too easily

a juddering train

a hatbox

and one less

my little garden

flower-sheltered

brood of shame

in stagnant

crumbling earth

a sentence passed

too easily

constricting noose

a trapdoor clangs

one less

mother-savior

mother-slayer

prays for each

forsaken child

come to me

suffer them

to come to me -

oh God

let me not suffer!

THE WIZARD

some call him mad

purple-eyed stargazer

eclipsing daylight with

his telescope of gold

seeking comets in the crystal

mixing heaven's dust in potions

infused with belladonna

and the souls of butterflies

strange he may be

but he can bind the universe

in mauve silk scarves

and has learned to speak

the language of the moon

KUAN YIN

she who sits

alone and centred

serene as childhood

memory

amidst the honeyed

shadows

and my stray moon-coloured

thoughts

unfolds a harmony

before this hour

unknown