a firing squad
 she puts home guilt on display
 ready, aim, fire
 
 tears rest in corners
 no escape from the bullets
 questions expose truth
 
 home guilt is misplaced
 her weakness is on trial
 we leave dragging weight
 
 it sits in silence
 she buries herself in books,
 shows with good endings
 
 (if i opened them
 then she’d bury herself here
 in her mother’s arms)
 
 i fear it’s too late
 she’s survived the jury’s choice
 now waits for justice
 
 yet, she’s only twelve
 surely more trials will come
 she’ll acquit her dreams