What Happens Next Poem by Julia Luber

Enter that world of crime and what it is you might have imagined.
Might have. And you are left with neither the capacity to laugh nor
cry. Making suppositional hypothetical functions of your senses:
IF IF IF IF. And isn't law supposed to be about anything but IF.
We KNOW that that is the killer. His DNA is all over everything.
But we are nonetheless going to rack your brain through a humiliating insult-
that we don't believe you. We don't. We don't want you to feel like you have acute
and critical target timing and consciousness. We do not want you to feel empowered
nor even like there is a reason for you to be home that day doing next to nothing
but watching the news. We do not want to give you credit for that. We do not want
you to get the twenty-five million dollars, nor even the respect of having critical
consciousness. We do not want you to feel like you are in connection with a higher power.
We do not want there to bea higher power that would bless you with something
thought of as intelligent that did not bless us in the same way.
We want you to feel alone and bitter, letting us wait to see what happens next.