Wretched Paint of the Latter Houses
M Sarki

He marshals every
precinct made,
occasions kindness  

spent.  Peels away
their underpinnings,
hugs them to his  

chest.  Orders court
and teedles some,
de-boots the  

young, bestrides. 
And still he is
a judge forlorn,
 

exhausted
but alive.            

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