A Crime [my Impression Of The Story 'The Lottery' By Shirley Jackson] Poem by Duy Bui

A black dot Mr. Summers has drafted.
Followed ancient tradition from pebbles
To stones. Each darted the grey wind shafted
by friends and neighbors, no distant rebels.

Children giggled upon each reddened stone
Whose grayish, earthly skins were peeled and scraped;
shrills of wisdom, a legacy would drone,
from ages ago, all for harvest sake.

All good faith rested on the one cursed soul,
for every righteousness commits a crime,
Darkness and silence, no god could console
‘It isn’t fair, it isn’t right’, a crime.