WHEN the jury files in to deliver a verdict after weeks of direct and cross examinations, hot clashes of lawyers and cool decisions of the judge, There are points of high silence -- twiddling of thumbs is at an end -- bailiffs near cuspidors take fresh chews of tobacco and wait -- and the clock has a chance for its ticking to be heard. A lawyer for the defense clears his throat and holds himself ready if the word is "Guilty" to enter motion for a new trial, speaking in a soft voice, speaking in a voice slightly colored with bitter wrongs mingled with monumental patience, speaking with mythic Atlas shoulders of many preposterous, unjust circumstances. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST MAN'S CLUB by JAMES GALVIN AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW SMOTHERED FIRES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL THE CORNUCOPIA OF RED AND GREEN COMFITS by AMY LOWELL NORTH WIND TO DUTIFUL BEAST MIDWAY BETWEEN DIAL & FOOT OF GARDEN CLOCK by MARIANNE MOORE |