Comes now the Plaintiff, praying for restitution

There is a term for this:
(in Latin, which always conjures
Antique Legitimacy--
Slight of hand impressing weak of mind)

Damnum absque injuria

But we, being legal realists,
Learned that this was only code --
What the law hasn’t figured out yet
(appropriate, I suppose, because I cannot
understand it either) --

Anymore than I could understand
Why her mother slipped away
(while we tried with forced laughter
to make lemon cancer)
Piece by piece, swollen face belying
Wasted body, wasted mind
Such waste !

These books. I outlined while she died
The exam (my guilty conscience),
It was scheduled. No goodbye.
(The least I should have done)
Criminal. It was criminal.


What did I learn?
Only what the law can’t know
And what we wish it to—
(Did I call? I wish I had called
At least.)


No answer. No answers here –
In the mockingly austere
(Langdell’s siren song)
Like our laughter. Like Latin.
Like lawyers. A gloss on the wrong.

No remedy
In God or in Law


But we know that it is wrong.