Author Information
Nocturnes: The Scaffold
Not quite the platform that you used to seek;
but none have gathered here to hear you speak
(of course, you cannot, with that broken jaw).
So you must listen as they shout your name---
a curseword now, a byword for the shame
and horror, largely caused by your conceit.
You even sentenced innocent teenagers---
like that girl who, on unshod, stockinged feet
strode up these stairs with neither fear nor falter.
She---someone's lover, friend, sister, and daughter---
faced these same last, hard moments that now call
upon you; but not like you; no, not the same.
A rush to death---as you had done to stage hers----
approaches. History rises to pass
judgment upon you. After you are dead
your reputation will come to a head
justly lopped off a pompous horse's ass.
God grant the worst damnation shall not spare
your soul, no longer dandy, Robespierre.
