the queens and kings
and knavish things
have traded red for black
the ace of spades has made the crawl
to top card on the stack
a silk top hat
now battered flat
a rabbit on his side
he cannot hold his ears up tall
for he is petrified
a weathered cane
in corner, lain
dissolving into dust
the golden tip now has a pall
of pimpled common rust
the balls that danced
askew, askance
are scattered on the floor
the season's changed from spring to fall
and they shall whirl no more
a tail of scarves
no longer carves
a rainbow brightly bled
there will not be a curtain call
the magic man is dead
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