Jan/Feb 2016 • Vol. XXXVIII No. 1 "Oh Abuse": Poets Regarding Pain |

Court of Law

The man to my right was famous. Infamous. He had tortured and was handsome. The interview shows had recently devoured his eloquence and beauty. I'd seen him the night before on The News Hour. We made them stand for days, he said, not I made them stand for days. He said we put bags over their heads, not I was afraid of the dark as a child. We were waiting for a plane. I noticed no one else noticing him. I felt my awareness of who he was build a little room around us, a room of consciousness in which it was natural, even required, to wonder if he had a publicist. We poured water into their mouths, not I am drowning in front of you now. The most interesting thing he said was torture tortures the torturer. I remembered that he frowned after he said this and turned his head as if it were starting to come off, as if a few revolutions later, his head could have been on the desk between his body and the interviewer, his pretty head talking about all the whiskey he drinks and how little slee

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Bob Hicok's most recent book, Elegy Owed, will be published in the spring of 2013 by Copper Canyon Press.

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The man to my right was famous. Infamous. He had tortured and was handsome. The interview shows had recently devoured his eloquence and beauty. I'd seen him the night before […]

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The man to my right was famous. Infamous. He had tortured and was handsome. The interview shows had recently devoured his eloquence and beauty. I'd seen him the night before […]

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