Jamail Center for Legal Research
Tarlton Law Library

Love's Hold

Her love held him fast.
Her love was crisp, clean, natural,
a well-iced Montrachet.
The strength of it had lured him,
netted him, held him long,
long, long after
the tide of his passion had ebbed.
Passed caring it held him
until the holding bruised.
Free of it now,
the memory holds him still.

Encounter:  First Kind

Her legs, good legs in dark stockings,
and the deep lilt of her voice
as she spoke of two children.  These things
he remembers, and day dreams
of moments of passion, redolent in harmless
fantastic profusion.  He liked the soft tan of her hands,
and her dangling earrings, these too, he remembers.
Indelible etchings,
the marks of chance meeting.

Pattern Killer Ensnared

He sits across the courtroom from me,
slack-jawed, dead eyed, big hands
bespeak a power otherwise belied.
Plain-faced and non-descript, nothing cries out,
"Warning! Beware!
A killer lurks here, unannounced,
hatred hibernate."  His moustache is pallid,
a blond cipher on pale skin, no
statement there, no declaration of his war.

I eye him as a mongoose eyes the snake,
instinctive.  Does he know I know?
Does he know the death I would deal him?
The depth of the fear I would share?

A lizard has more warmth, more animated eyes.
My eyes, hawk's eyes, see everything:
the faces of his victims, the cold hunger
of his need.  He wakes me,
on moonless nights I start, awake, 
feeling the cords of his neck resist my hands.

I shall hear their begging voices in my grave-
I hear them now, pleading for life,
Greek chorused, dead.  My justice
little comfort to them now.

The Legend of "Foots" and "Britchs"

"Foots" and "Britchs" worked the projects,
uniform patrol in District Two
"Rollers," the people say.

"Foots"
he was big, and black, and mean,
slow talking, some kind of quick,
and patient, waiting,
always waiting for your time,
he walked, slow and quiet on the street.

"Britchs"
was small, and white, and mean,
fast talking, nervous looking, quick,
and patient, waiting,
always waiting for your time,
she drove, slow and quiet through the streets.

Listen to what the people say:

"D'em bro's gathered on da co'ners,
at dark,
near da Hole.
Da cars be goin' by, den pullin' over,
an' da bro's, dey be leanin',
dealin' some
dat Fo't Myers package,
to da dude's
an' Foots', well
he be creepin' roun', comin' down on 'em
from in da dark,
all quick like puttin'
dat big paw on some one's neck,
an' den"
(the people chuckle here, and grin
remembering)
"bro's beatin' feets all roun', an'
'britchs'
she done roll dat car, lights out,
up on da sidewalk, knockin' over trash,
den flippin' on dem brights and over-heads,

da PA blarin'
"Freeze! You Mother-fuckers, Freeze!"
(the people roll their eyes here,
at the wonder of it all,
the little honky yelling,
"Mo-ther-Fuck-ers, Freeze!")

Lee Wm. Atkinson was born in Detroit, Michigan, in 1949. He attended the University of Michigan, where he graduated in 1971, and from the University of Michigan Law School in 1973. After his admission to the Bar in December, 1973, Atkinson worked as an Assistant Attorney General for the State of Michigan. He then served as assistant prosecuting attorney in Detroit and chief of the criminal division for the prosecuting attorney's office in Lansing, Michigan. In 1980, he moved to Tampa, Florida, to become an Assistant U.S. Attorney for the Middle District of Florida where he became head of the narcotics section, supervising Federal drug prosecutions. From 1985 to 1992, Atkinson was Executive Assistant State Attorney in Tampa. After leaving the State Attorneys office in 1993, Atkinson took up the private practice of law. He is now with the Tampa law firm, Forizs & Dogali. Atkinson is a published poet, an accomplished horseman, and a fencer.