Justice is blond, a coquette, a tease.
I was led on by the nose,
up a creek with only prattle
to clothe and make a man out of me.
And my father (none the wiser),
"Told you so!" he told me.
Are my accounts in her ears?
A burdened hand being worse, moreover,
than twins in a birchbark canoe...
I game a flaw: a flinch she
made in rhyme to save mine.
But that sidelong glance is the Devil's
hotspot. And like I'm hatched out
of a bell for her ready hearing, ever.
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