A second

Halfcut we stagger. Blood storm in our eyes
hair slick and stinking. Something in our hand
we did not seize. The trumpet snarling of that band
raucous tears ears. Charged each of us denies

we were involved. There is no alibi
clears history. Our race our sex our class
some boy we liked who patted our firm arse
was monster later. Sometime you or I

accused and guilty. Also innocent
process our trial. All of us arraign
each other, point the finger for our pain.
We love we hate but mostly we resent

times we cannot escape because alive
some piece of work we do may yet survive.