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Dec 2019
on my fridge
is a sheet
of yellow notebook paper
worn at the edge
from intent,
trigger happy,
fingers.

"is your warrant signed by a judge?"
those words are lighthearted

to a few, who
escape the thumbs
of law boys.

so clear,
their flesh.
no ink

blots on records
kept clean
by the sweatless brow
of towers so high
that clouds
veil gargoyles gazing imperiously
at each passerby.

"is your warrant signed by a judge?"
to the few who've become many
Those words are heavy,
too heavy
for  

Borne ink

blots falling from plumes
of justices too weak
to hold a bar

examinations recorded in each drip
down the corrugations
of a city center obelisk

worn at the edges
by the sculptor's blade
and the broken shields of
pawing prisoners
put away like leftover

Schools of sardines
swimming circles above the stone
pinwheel of old codes
kept real by the rise

and fall of handsome abusers
Hard done by.

"Is your warrant signed by a judge?"
jocund
Written by
jocund
388
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