[Douglas G. Brown]

The Muse Erato’s tightly gagged and bound;
Despondent that this competition round
Demands the final letter of each line
Exactly be the same as starts the next.

The outcome … Entrants’ godforsaken texts -
Sent in with rhyme and meter out of whack;
Killing diction like some plastic sack
Kevorkian might wrap round patient’s head;
(Depressive patient, yearning to be dead,
Demands from Jack to shed his mortal coil.)

Lest I be booted from Spectator’s field,
Discreetly now I pray, “I beg you, Muse
Erato (in your sorry shackled state)
Enable me to cleverly finagle
Enough lines for this verse; and then inveigle
Endorsement by the Speccie’s judge's slate.”