Robin Confesses

by Elizabeth Slaughter-Ek

I didn't take the money for myself.
People were hungry, children with
clothes in rags, cold feet, blue lips.
They were eating cabbage, boiled and gluey,
bread when they could get it.

I lost good friends in the forest,
buried them in motley and green,
Their skin pierced by sharp arrows,
a coin of gold on each tongue.

That fat tyrant in his stone castle,
gloating while we starved.
He didn't need the deer,
the pheasants we poached,
the gold we stole and passed on.

I was right sneaky shooting in disguise.
The targets were fair and that golden
arrow shone in the sun.
It would buy a lot of bread.
Marian's eyes were wary but proud
and I can't deny it felt good.

They're singing songs about me.
Now I'm the one that's proud but wary.