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.