Day Forty-nine

Today's words:

Butter

Justice

Gears

Galley

Trapeze

King

You can butter

Him up as much as you like, but justice

Isn't a guaranteed outcome. I know those gears

Are turning in your head, but in the gallery

Of portraits, yours is absent. You can swing on the trapeze,

But that doesn't make you king.

And if I were king

I'd outlaw butter

And make everyone take trapeze

Lessons. Justice?

You can talk to the peanut gallery 
About that. And the gears

Are frozen. Those gears

So beloved of the King.

He installed them in a gallery,

Lubricated them with butter,

All in hopes of finding justice

On the flying trapeze.

It's not like hanging from a trapeze,

Or the turning of gears - 

Justice

Is simpler than that. The King

Knows it too, but butter

Wouldn't melt in his mouth. Let's stroll the gallery.

I always think better walking the gallery.

I'm no dare-devil, swinging on the trapeze.

I'll put some butter

On those gears,

Hoping to move the King

To justice.

And so, chasing justice

In the gallery,

I came upon the King,

Working out on the trapeze.

The gears

Unfrozen after he'd applied butter.

Justice is like an acrobat on a trapeze,

Swinging in a gallery of gears,

While the King works at churning butter.