deep in the wood.
Her oiled frame is built with care
and set with purpose in the square,
a spectacle to see.
descends the sky.
The half moon falls more sharply now,
her silvry light blinding the crowd
to what this means for them.
You could be next.
Monte-à-regret, La Veuve, the end:
it has a dozen names, but friend
by no one it is called.
La dame de mort.
Elle reste là debut du monde
pour raccourcir les têtes de l’homme
grace à les Anciens.
sing once again,
ring out your terror through the land,
and, if not heads, then collect hands
that work to harm the poor.