Let it be a small kindness.
Cale driving me to the hearing
in the crispness of winter. He sat
behind me the whole time and listened
to everything. In October, the cold
snapped and left me a day without ice
and snow. My advocate beside me in
the courthouse as the men negotiated
my future. The people that loved me
made me lentils and rice, sat with me
in the quiet that held space like a
coat around me. My advocate told me
that Amazonite was for warriors, so
I held it in my hand the day of the trial.
I collect my victim compensation and
don’t spend it for years. I am $6 richer.
What I wouldn’t give to be me again. On the ride
home all of the lights were green, green, green.
