The Backporch Review 2022

Good Souls Pay the Fine
By Wil Polaris, 11
of the grafters, the simoniacs, and the thieves
like in the mines
& the destruction they've left
& the discord you've sowed
so our coping made cleft
by grafters we are hooked
with our wounds we stammer
& in death again we are played
Those with the keys and manner
have locked the citadel of taste
& in life they turn our eyes upon the banner
office to office, same sin
but how we are sentenced
to pay in your din
& when it's rising torment begins
we will say "it was me all along,
I've made the waters rise, I’ve made the ice thin
Those unmangled fly at birdsong
The panderers new territory claimed
They pay no bade, to those who stare daylong
Because of his poetry one mistake was made
That of your conscious, you cannot be swayed
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