To hold that title, to be a Justice, in that moment Right before Right before A decision is Released
The ink has dried
Do you think of the implications, of your title?
Do you think of the lovers? History? What future books Or your grandchildren Might think?
Do you imagine the actual faces? News coverage? Potential of riots?
Is it just, now, judicial text Dusty pages Turned?
Are you drinking coffee, in a robe in a chamber somewhere? Do you turn off the news? Does the job requirement require you pretend not to care Pretend to not be interested In the response?
That is not the question At hand The question At hand Is minute, detailed It is quite Very specific An intricate legal matter Might you assure us?
It is not individuals Holding hands around TVs Clicking refresh, on computer screens
Do you pray Or choose, specifically, otherwise?
It is not flesh And tears It is not Children And history It is about specific text The placement of Words The system by which This thing Called justice Slowly is sought
The yelling outside The signs Are not relevant - to you - The TVs The children Your legacy
No no no?
It is just fifteen more minutes Are you going about the business Of your day Thinking: The ink has already dried - ?
May history judge us all, kind - The refrain of our times
