Girl With One Track Mind (Sexhunters)
I Fell in Love on the Northern Line
Jury Service
The jurors sit down
to their deliberation,
Seven men, five women
strain for inspiration,
A wizened old man's fate
on them weighs doughtily,
Around a long table
they fathom what they're able,
The accused's wayward defence
would seem to make scant sense,
Yet with indignant ire
he protests his innocence,
The jury elects a foreman,
Steaming teas are made,
Straw poll: Seven Guilty, Five Unsure,
Differing views roll out,
Words passionate and pure,
Did he realise? Should he have known?
The evidence weighs one way,
Was he drunk? Or simply mad?
If so, why couldn't he say?
Judges of Fact!
Royalty of Reason!
The jury's desperate to get it right,
In the lines of their faces
meet equity and determination
in this fight,
Yet another, final vote,
At last all are sure,
Peroration wins the day,
When Doubt came knocking
at the Jury Room door
she was sent swiftly on her way,
With a tinge of sadness,
the jurors know they're right,
and break out their sandwiches,
bags of crisps, cans of Sprite,
Back to the tense courtroom,
The foreman swallows before
he responds,
to the question bid of him,
'Guilty,' he says loud and clear,
The convicted collapses in despair.