The jail-keeper's beautiful daughter insists
I've wronged her. At the last minute, I cut her
From a poem I wrote because she threatened
To upset its balance. She says the trio
Who replaced her -- a rat, a roach and a spider --
Haven't any of her star power but that
Is precisely why they're in a poem whose star
Mightn't like being eclipsed. The daughter
Has threatened to complain to her union
(Who knew that jail-keepers' beautiful daughters
Had a union? Or that it was affiliated
With the Teamsters?) unless I soon
Let her have a poem to herself. So far,
I've refused but I'm wavering and have asked
Her father for advice. All he talks about, though,
Is his career as the hangman's beautiful son.
He's still a considerably handsome man
With flecks of gold shining in his beard.
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