A freak’s cough echoes nightly
Synchronized with police sirens
And the police are phonetically capable
Of constructing a noise that resembles pity
But who are the pitiful?
Perhaps slumbering in garments
Shattered at the collar
Styled like v-necks
Compliments of rancor style.
Poetry collapses on their eyelids
They blink in Iambic Pentameter.
What was once a pitiful noise
Slumbers soundly like a bear-skin rug
Placed at the devious feet
Of Kings and Queens and Jesters.