Truth
The defendant’s elderly mother tells you
she can’t hear very well.
You listen to the graphic descriptions
of the child images her son viewed on his computer
like a punch in the stomach.
You have children, you are a mother.
His mother’s face twists as if she is sucking
on a lemon. She clutches her handbag
straining to hear the barrister
as he discusses each count
and the custodial guidelines.
You listen to the judge’s
summing up, thinking about
how you will avoid the truth
how you will skirt over the facts
if she asks. For you know
his mother probably hears more than she lets on
selective hearing makes the truth
that much easier to swallow.
Rachel Burns has poetry published in Crannog, Poetry Salzburg Review, Algebra of Owls and is anthologized in Poems for Grenfell Tower, Poems for the NHS and #MeToo. She has a poetry pamphlet forthcoming with Vane Women Press.