(for Ruth Bader Ginsburg, March 15, 1933 - September 18, 2020.)
How quietly she sits in judgment
fully qualified eyes open
watching the work of men
corrupt the world again to make us empty headed
re-fill the space with bullets of hate
for all that is flesh and turn it into steel
trashing heroes and prophets of old
she knows
you can't create a new world on anger
and all the poets weeping over sculpted manifestos
cannot kill plastic bankers so dead to this world
they think they will live forever
—they won't but you will.
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