There is no place for the poet
	unwanted bard
	jittery stands in stoic coffeehouses
	expressing emotion uncared for
	unseen between requests for latte
	and the hiss of sugar spilling from pink packets
	discarded paper more revered than the pulp of wooden carcasses
	cradling her words for everlasting
	gifts to a degrading court
	long since outgrown its desire for literary toys