For Your Crimes

I will not kill with kindness. For your crimes
I’ll slit you open with a butcher’s knife,
Or use a stun gun six or seven times,
A painful way to end a victim’s life.
But you’re no victim: I’ll just squeeze you till
You can’t breathe. Maybe I’ll use a garrotte,
Or feed you poison; when you’ve had your fill
I’ll drown you in the bath. Or maybe not —
A shotgun doesn’t need a careful aim,
And neither does a well-wielded crowbar
Or cricket bat. You know, I like this game,
Considering my method. Oh! A car!
I’ll run you over with a moving van,
A riding mower! I’ll do what I can.