Lady Justice falters, the end of a long week balancing the scales,
Judges’ wigs hide halos, robes skim snaking silhouettes of tails,
I ponder the same old points of law as my key provokes the car
I haggle over morality like a tourist at a hellish bazaar;
I have a duty and a mortgage so my soul succumbs easily now,
how can I alone disassemble hate’s apparatus anyhow.
I rev again impatiently flooding gas, cranking too fast
This is not the dream I conjured in low-lit libraries of my past,
I am unsuited to betraying good souls that fail to heal with time
and drive to sweet Gethsemane to deliver words of broken rhyme.
The blindfold slips to cover her mouth, the Lady can no longer respire
she died in spirit centuries ago, did you think she would never tire,
through every extortion, acquittal and release the wily advocate secures
Mercy dissolves like Lot’s wife; just the grimace of her mouth endures.
This creative piece was submitted as part of our March Theme: Disruption. If you would like to submit your own creative work to aAh! Magazine, please email aAh.Editor@gmail.com, and be sure to check our latest “Letter from the Editors” to find out next month’s theme.