In those days when there was no king
in the land, and every man did
what was right in his own eyes,
hope warmed itself over the fires
outside the tents,
outside the fourth precinct station,
the people waiting in darkness,
another son’s skull rent onto death;
and channel 5 crafting its story
in the newsroom first,
then driving to the site
to interview the police union chief
fanning his own flames;
and it was witnessed:
the son handcuffed,
unarmed when shot,
the people aggrieved, waiting for truth,
days when there was no consecrated ground
and every man did what was right
in his own eyes.
Copyright 2016, John Krumberger
John Krumberger has had poems published in Rhino, Great River Review, Comstock Review, Water-Stone, and Poetry East. His most recent volume of poems, Because Autumn, was published by Main Street Rag Press in 2016.