If righteousness remains,
it is moonlight glinting
on the mica-flecked steps
and waxed lips of barren
concrete planters as midnight
skaters’ kickflips grind
oblivion near the courthouse
sign’s annunciation
where stragglers huddle
in a delinquent arc
against the wind’s cold
dispensation of Guilty
and Not in which any
joke like How do you
make God laugh? means
it’s time to split wheat
from chaff, to let whoever’s
without sin pull
from the ashtray’s dark
one more damp refry
since those who believe
surely never die.