The Page Cannot Be Displayed, by Robert Beveridge

As usual, it boiled down to a question
of whether the cook erred. Drops
of cold duck trickled down the table leg,
unnoticed, as the servant boy
was hauled away by two brawny guards.
The swiftness of the king’s decision stunned
the rest of the party, but he himself
ate as if nothing untoward had occurred.
The cook poured the king’s next cup.


Robert Beveridge makes noise ( and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Microtext: An Anthology, The Scarlet Leaf Review, and Reality Hands, among others.


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