She climbs the scaffold quietly, with a self-conscious smile
Smoothes her skirt, fixes her hair, checks her makeup
Then they take her arms, hold them up to the wood,
And she lets them, with neither complaint nor comment.

Let's talk about your day, I plead, almost begging,
Tell me about your dreams, your fears,
But she doesn't say anything, she just smiles
As they pound the stakes through her delicate wrists

I just want to be here for you, she says, through
A sea of tears and blood and jagged thorns
And she hangs there, beaming like a searchlight
Almost grateful to be dying for my sins.

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