what if the visions of kings were skewed
by dismal heights?
what if the swimmers began to drown?
what if the stirring ocean foam brewed
a toxic night?
the meadows are timed:
each season couplet,
each sunrise a rhyme
what if the cobblestones broke up?
what if the towers where maidens lie
have no stairs?
what if their follies were enough?
what if the fields where peasants die
rose above the air?
the dead beat their drums:
the queens sit in silence
while the kings' reins are done
the harp strings are strung:
the angels start plucking
as church bells are rung
for the fall
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