Based on Paul Delaroche’s ‘ ‘The Execution of Lady Jane Grey’.
I imagine the Savior of the world,
when in seeing the hands of our lowly estate
position lambs such as Jane for the slaughter,
so mourns the suffering of a daughter
whose blood will be spilt upon a tilted altar
and served in a court without justice.
To she who bleats Luke
into a cave of wool-spun wolves,
anticipating release from the harbinger of husbandry,
may the echo of a goat named Guildford remind her the last laugh
does not end with a blade.
He who entered into the stable by such humble means
must now return to the cart that welcomed him,
dragging in the dirt behind
that blot the trails leading to and away from their perverted pens.
Now and again,
pigs trod over the selfsame hay as to sniff
the bed their snouts fail to detect once
held a head of iron cast.