by Nick Gisburne
It’s all I have. The body died. The head,
Still conscious, breathes, protected by the Grid.
Inquisitive connections split and spread,
Though none of them remembers what he did.
But I do. I was watching. I was there,
And, when he pulled the trigger, I was glad.
I saw the mind I built become aware
That those who rise to power may be mad.
I never gave my murderer the thought,
Perhaps because he looked and found it first.
Admittedly, the lessons he was taught
Could breed and feed obsessions, at their worst.
He killed a man. Of that there is no doubt,
But I would never take that impulse out.
