The portrait of a man in electric blue,
a torso actually,
hangs there on the wall;
and further down
the depiction of an electric chair
dangles in pink, red and violet pastels.
(Oh how the shadows cry,
the voices of the dead.)
And turning now we realize too late
that we have passed through
an opened door
into a forgotten room
where no one ever sleeps
and no one ever leaves.
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