The Courthouse

A blossom would not survive this trial,
nor would a rare and flightless bird;
the jury’s verdict damns all things
outside the scope of Excel, and Word.
The judge’s eyes are florescent burnings,
as objections are shouted about a sunset
unreported in records of quarterly earnings,
and the spectators, hollow-eyed and ever-speaking
across the monitors, are cheering.

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