Verdict

Justice is blind, but only in that she

Should not weigh anything except what's true.

She does not choose it random, fitfully,

Nor does nor should she choose what she will do

Based on opinion or identity.

Justice is served we say when we've gone only through

The proper forms and done it honestly

In such a way that Justice will ensue.

Justice upholds the right. This means the law

Should not sway wrongfully, nor self-abuse;

If it is chance, or biased, that's a flaw

That means there is no Justice, or she'll lose.

We all know what we saw last May. And so

We know where Justice was--and we still know.

Panic

One thing that I did not expect:

I'm absolutely terrified

Of what this jury will decide

And then of what will happen next.

A few decisive lines of text

About how George Floyd lived and died

Now written down but not yet eyed

We'll have an impact so direct

I tremble with it. Even I

Though neither black nor Minnesotan

Can feel the history congeal.

This kind of day we know we try

The systems that the people vote in

If they can judge what's truly real.

Thematics

There is no single sonnet theme

No necessary topics here;

It could recount a weirdass dream,

The architecture of a pier,

The sense of being straight, or queer,

The hope of future joy, the pain

Of stubbing toes, the sense of cheer

That's generated by the rain

(Depression too), the constant strain

Of unrequited love, the fields

That stretch to Kansas, thick with grain,

The sound of battle, swords on shields,

Whatever else we can conceive

Can be a sonnet, I believe.

Rain

There's something calming in a good hard rain,

Something that simply does a body good;

That quiets an unquiet, rowdy brain.

I love to hear it rattle on the hood

Of the parked cars that line the neighborhood

Which will not move, as long as it goes on.

I listen longer than I likely should,

Out of the evening, deep into the dawn,

Until the rain itself is dried and gone,

And everything is quiet but my mind.

I watch the flowers bloom across my lawn,

Christened with rain, ecstatic, unconfined,

And know we are alike. The downpour brings

A quiet music to which all life sings.