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.
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