A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
Dear Lady Justice,
You are here without a summons.
Voices insist you be taken
upstairs to crowds waiting
to watch you, hear you proclaim
their imperative. Refuse, at last,
dirty from use, long stationed in rooms
of churning bile and duty shirked.
Move outside now free as spring’s robins.
Have nothing of these scripted circuses.
Search for space not up for auction
by men who claim you without scales,
without blindfold. Rip off that gown,
grey, tattered, and go among trees
thin as girls’ legs. See small waving
fronds, the hands of children who need you
to pick them up right now and run.
Copyright 2017 Billy Clem