At The Stake

rippling sounds of horns,
banners draped along roads
where the fire
meets the bone

the heads bob, like a living sea
of hair and hunger, wanting
blood, wanting
execution

between walls too high for clouds
where the mortar meets the brick
he stood, waiting,
patient

yes or no? they ask
did you do it? did
you kill him?

there is no answer, and then
there is no more that's known
since the fire
met the bone