Dovecote

Respiring at her own repercussion
to put an end to all the discussion
a gappy aristocrat erases
her notes; topples quivering bookcases.

The grey margins have been skirted before;
a crumpled dalliance, above the law;
a concertinaed question mark; ensconced
in elitist sweetshops, and from here, wants

have gone parading, in Isiac gowns,
detonating for miles the mines of down
and dowry, that, as common as the clouds,
birth cries to furnish courtesans and clowns.

This curiosity has all beauty
to be found in return, and not decree.
As though Daphne, cuddling the shady
brickwork, falls from grace, on a spending spree.

Makes up her mind to rest on her laurels,
but proffers only coos and kerfuffles.