Green Peas at Stake

J’accuse

He stands at the podium and lectures:
“Follow the poem; let the poem lead.
Love it so, with awe, so it becomes you.”

Then, he asks: “Are you all strangers or ghosts
that you don’t know who murdered poetry?"
And he points with his index finger:
"Was it you? You? Or you?"

His gaze rests on me and I cringe.