The Trial

Not insane, your honor, by reason of guilt.
(The jury is the future, witnesses are Them. The trial
an unwise laughter. Only the sentence
is real.)
There are no walls anywhere. I hammer
toward your voice, against my slylence.
That frantic fool was one of us
and not quite you, I think.
Nor me, though you may not
believe it nevertheless
(ALWAYS the less!)
it is true at least.
Your honor, I call for my first witless…
The adjournment is postponed til yesterday.
The judge is dry as wit.
A gust of wind….the powder-dry face is blown away
and the leering vacuum appears again.
You knew it would, but you are surprised just the same;
you are just the same.
Any last words?
In the beginning….
But you know there was no beginning.
Can you face there was no beginning? Liar!
If you could, you wouldn’t be here. Not Guilty!
My client pleads the mercy of the court.
The court has no mercy.
My client pleads his mother.
Off with her head!
My client pleads.
What use? You know that he was long condemned. He knows!
He knows. For my last meal: Bagels and locks.
We have no locks. Will keys do?
Doors! Give me doors for my keys! Oak doors, iron doors,
screen doors, scream doors, any doors for my keys!
The victim is too keyed-up, and the judge chuckled at his
weticism, cracking his porcelain beard.
To the scaffold! On with his head!
There is no help.

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