Jury Duty

We passed through voi dir,

my dear, were made peers

of a rococo realm, with its

perched presider and purchased

persuaders.  We nodded at passing

evidence, became a dozen guilty

buzzards asked to shadow

a creature offered on an altar

called The People.  We heard

arguments open and close

like shutters banging in the wind.

In a room, our opinions

accumulated like snow.  In that

drift was buried our decision,

which we seized.  The facts had

whispered to us, “He is guilty.”

We listened to them and repeated

what they said.  The defendant

bowed his head.  Shadows

of our doubt followed us outside,

where, greasy-winged, we joined

The People leading perfectly

legal lives.

--Hans Ostrom, copyright 2012