A surfeit of jurisprudence:
stunned magistrates pop
like woodlice put to matches.
The local constabulary turn helmets upward
to catch drips from melting infrastructure;
police whistles wilt between lips
and stretch like hot toffee.
Prisons pool round the ankles of wardens;
miscreants caper like children.
Some wander lost, hunting for cages -
squat behind railings,
grounded at last.
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