I would leave this             train seat
grow to giant size            step through the marshes outside
The mud would not reach         the first seam in my shoes
When I get to that bridge        over there
the sadness I have lived with          since the earliest days
time   food   shitting   wanting comfort    getting mocked
I would pick up the bridge             Would I drop it from high up
and smash it?         Would I set it down elsewhere
across a different          a very private




When you stole all those clothes
No one wanted to believe you
But I did. Bring me Evidence, I said,
we don’t
convict based on opinions
                  And the Facebook picture of you in the missing
skirt, jacket, boots, was not enough
because Facebook pictures can have so many

       The Judge sits
at the end of explanations.

Conviction proceeds
beyond fact. Once the facts are heard,
the data have been exhausted,
then there can be judgement.

Farewell to the dawn
when facts inflated like bubbles
       and floated in the sun.
The Judge is on the other side
He is on the dark hemisphere

The wronged have their day
And their complaints do not move
The Judge. The Judge is as bad
as your crime and as good as the world
before you did it


Frank Rubino’s poetry has been published in DMQ Review, The Cape Rock, Caliban Online, Caveat Lector, The World, Little Light, and New Directions. He has been performing his poetry since 1982, reading at St. Mark’s Poetry Project, The Ear Inn, The Cornelia Street Cafe, The Nuyorican Poets Cafe, and numerous other locations in and around New York. He currently resides in New Jersey with his wife and four children.


Get more content and support Carbon Culture here.

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published.

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>