The Domino Jester
gayly pranced
bedecked with bells
and impish grin.
With a strutting
and impious wit,
he mocked maid,
knight and crown.

With recklace impunity
gathering mirth
like miser's coins,
the fool went on
lost in his role
and lost his head
one ill-blessed day
when a jest went wrong.

Now that head,
upon a pike
strands outside
the city gate.
All flesh is stripped
by raven folk;
and still the skull
grins at its fate.

Now you would think
there'd be a dirth
of fools to claim
so dread a station,
But the opening
was filled at once
by a half-wit in need
of avocation.

And in the long
cold winter nights,
when hearts hide
from spectres grim,
they say a phantom
strolls the dark,
hunting laughter
once again.