he must be punished

“The Judge”

If ever there was a man born to hang,
it was the scofflaw
he’d steal a pittance
in his haste not,
to conform
extend his trembling limb
grasp the sweet confection
then scurry, scurry
hide in clover
away from the limelight
sucking the plum pastry
until only the husk remained
soon the judge found him
on his hip
sprawled in sleep
the only remedy
to succor the multitude
of angry citizens
was to grab Lester firmly
by the scruff of the neck
and listen to him purr
as he washed his face clean
of purple stains


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