Aggregates (phase 2)

Each morning I meet my crazy quilt
bright eyed, in from the edge,
spectacular as Easter’s ilk
eggs tuck in ditch and hedge .

What’s so crazy about a mantle
pieced from robe and shirt,
summer culotte, tartan flannel
destined for the dirt.

Each day a junta erects regimes
Of arms and legs and balls
Time is bottled, black deals are sealed,
piked heads fill the halls.

What’s best about hegemony;
when sovereigns step aside?
Begets a tidge of larceny
and mayhem for its a bride.


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