A Sense of Justice by Zeke Greenwald

A sense comes over me of what justice is,

and it’s a kiss with two mismatched wetnesses;

it’s a sympathy of two shards of vase

by faulty glue to keep the tears contained.

And though the mouth’s sloppy water might escape

because the lip size difference is great

we have stopped talking with a sign of pity:

pity which makes justice in the living.

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