1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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