Christopher Wells
Two Poems
The Soft Exchange

As soon as the prosecutors completed the trial, the witness came on his assistant. His
broker was carried out. “Don’t set him there! A stand’s no place for experts!” But around
his case, above his lifestyle is where the broker was killed.

At night when obstruction releases justice, it was deftly abducted back to lawyers. A
testimony brokered the improvement, which was then exchanged—softly.

“Good night!”

“Good night!”

And then for the ex-brokers no one includes, the director regarded the compliance.



Inventory

David has asked for
an inventory
today, she said. They
take this very hard.
There are safety reasons
every fifty years.

These seasons are deaf,
their darkness odd.
The vases, vents,
tin tents and desks are
too shoddy for
neat sins.

They divide their
thirteen ovens and
seventy hoses.

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