The Rose Jury
twelve strangers stand together. nine strong and as
they should be;
but three heads bow as if they cannot face the light. their life
is ebbing faster than the day on which they came here. twelve
witnesses to our life together. a jury of my feeling for you. three
already condemned in some unreal reversal of conviction. eerily
equivalent to the number of our years together, as a fourth begins
to stoop and wither with them. a cause for pause and reflection,
were either of us superstitious; or willing to admit to it
© 2001 Peter Geoffrey Hynes
