by Rick Pongratz
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AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News. |
Let’s say there’s no judge,
it's just us, you and me,
and all of our peers,
deliberating, pontificating, confabulating.
Awaiting our verdict,
segregated in the balcony, sit
two made motherless in Minnesota
next to two made fatherless in Utah,
and our children, with all of their peers.
Opposing solicitors dance before us,
profiteers play up our fears,
until we are hung—and together,
pile more dead upon the plates,
to lie with all of our peers.
The left and right arms of our scales
tilt and totter with each fresh body,
the chains grown too taut,
not made for the weight of revenge.
it's just us, you and me,
and all of our peers,
deliberating, pontificating, confabulating.
Awaiting our verdict,
segregated in the balcony, sit
two made motherless in Minnesota
next to two made fatherless in Utah,
and our children, with all of their peers.
Opposing solicitors dance before us,
profiteers play up our fears,
until we are hung—and together,
pile more dead upon the plates,
to lie with all of our peers.
The left and right arms of our scales
tilt and totter with each fresh body,
the chains grown too taut,
not made for the weight of revenge.
Rick Pongratz is an emerging poet. His poetry has appeared in Rattle and is forthcoming in Frogpond. Rick works as a mental health clinician and currently studies creative writing at Idaho State University.
