Building of Justice is the square-shaped tray
decorated with figures of lions
biting clumsily,
they look, they know.
Finally, the lions are like candied almonds,
They open their stone mouth
to spit an almond, then another, until the rain of sugar almonds
fell to the pillars and bloody benches

dotted with visitors with seminal faces
like a white canvas They stare at lions and sing to trees
doodling the poetic Justice
to  lickerish carcasses winners.

Everywhere is written Justice, she breathes
she drums, she shocks violently with syllables,
annulling the bitterness from the surrounding
harvested greenery.

Court watchdogs, cattle and lions
tantalize nicks, scoundrels, maybe an occasional innocence,
(don’t bend the truth now, you barefaced liar)
whether innocence could ever be caught rushing
with pack of mangy mutts at the wrong place?

So, I stand accused.