Idiolect
In the age of the meme
story can turn mean and
often the poem a propaganda
text as tattletale, like a dry
snitch on the veranda …
a prescript
of Esprit de l’escalier
raising the curtain on a colloquy
of pretext
dystopia spoken by
speakers sentenced
to a solitary
diaspora
Poor punkable players all
And that goes double for,
Yours Truly
*****