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Would glove get blush
When used against the moral,
And squint its eyes,
And shudder, and retreat?
What nonsense!
Who'd enable a piece of leather
To know master's
Every hidden dead?
The glove fits tide
In robbery or murder,
Does not distinguish
Between right and wrong...
From bloody bath
It shrinks... Is that its protest?
So no one can
Abuse the glove again?
It's not going to fit
The hand of killer
Becoming shrunken,
Dry, and no use.
Thus murderer walked free...
The glove in silence
Had proved him innocent,
Incapable to fit.
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When used against the moral,
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Poetry: Gloves
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