The Place of Strife

Such were the conventions of former times

The old laws weren’t wiser

Except for their era,

Except in their own eyes.

Their places of strife,

Questions of ownership—

Marketplaces, bedrooms—

Remain places of strife.

Maybe they rained local

Ameliorations

During a reign or two,

If that. Then violence

Sprang back, the carnivore

Sprayed, pressed back in its cage,

Released. The place of strife

Lies in your thoughts, your skull

Where you mutter cases,

Fairnesses, punishments,

Vengeance as you see fit,

Justice as you see it.

You’re muttering now, now

In your own era’s eyes.