Poem: Gitmo, years later

by Jack Brummet

1
Is it goodness
To see justice
Administered with a granite fist
In an asbestos glove?
Let it come down
Like thunder and blue lightning,
Like the old surprise visit,
And an image of
Biting through.

2
The old kings made iron-clad laws
With exponential penalties.
Is a punishment that fits the crime,
Punishment at all?
When his feet are fastened in the stocks,
And his toes disappear?
When his neck is fastened in a wooden cangue,
And his ears disappear?
When the punished veer
From pleading for life
To pleading for death?
---o0o---