from "Twelve Chairs" by Rita Dove

from  TWELVE CHAIRS



            First Juror

     Proof casts a shadow;

         doubt is to walk

            onto a field

           at high noon

            one tendril

                held to

                   the

                 wind.

          Second Juror

       A stone to throw

         A curse to hurl

      A silence to break

        A page to write

          A day to live

              A blank

               To fill

          Third Juror

       between the lip

          and the kiss

     between the hand

          and the fist

       between rumor

          and prayer

     between dungeon

           and tower

        between fear

          and liberty

             always

            between

           Fourth Juror

    Cancel the afternoon

   evenings mornings all

        the days to come

           until the fires

              fall to ash

          the fog clears

        and we can see

             where we

                really

                stand.

Source of the text - Rita Dove, American Smooth.  New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2004, pages 71-75.

TJB: Deliberation ode. Beyond a reasonable doubt, this poem repackages each juror’s interiority into a short lyric. I stand with the first juror.