If nothing works in words
Then nothing’s worth the work.
This is my evidence,
And you bear the bits of it
That have escaped from the storm
And mystery of my device;
Finally gathered from the separate
Gantries you’ve managed to call your
Own and collected within the same
Framework for the first time in ages
To view my address and attempt witness.
A rain storm’s worth of mortal
Men and women cindered from
The same cloud but lingered
Too long on the journey from it
To join in the mixing bowl, though now
Flowed together once swashed
Upon the road’s holding surface.
Called by mouth and hearing made in
Order to look upon my performance
And pass verdict that requires neither
Majority nor absolute vote to support it.