Of Charges Less than Treason

The thing about
bottoming out is you have
nowhere to go but up.

Just refill your cup,
it was conceived mostly
half-empty.

(Drowning would
not be quite so
heart-wrenching.)

This is my day in
a downtown court, with its
legalese and
planted jargon trees.

My sentencing will have to be death row to force this violent little storybook to cease. Any charge that’s less than treason is only purgatory for all its characters and prose, who are so far gone you wonder how they were ever protagonists at all.

But I am no anti-hero,
just a failed rogue,
a renegade who took
the higher road but

retreated when I saw
my weakness was
the rope

she’d use
to hang me from the backwoods
I once called home.

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6 thoughts on “Of Charges Less than Treason

  1. I like the intrigue you leave the poem with: Who is She? The one that will hang you? What happened in the past? One of the rare times I want MORE from a good poem… in a good way! Thanks!

    Like

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