Scandal

Lips twitch to a
pitch that’s heavy;
leaden and weighted
for prizes.
Feet tap on wooden
slats to a beat
much unknown
to the wise.

Murmur it low for a
murder of crow
sit loose on stones
marking waste.
Greet new friends, re-
peat amends;
false handshakes
break in rough haste.

Take it all roughly,
bake a wall
with ginger
crumbs; hard and wet.
Lace the liquor, iced,
pace the halls at night:
refine your art;
lest they ever forget.

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