The Poet Who Almost Was

the life of a nearby poet was almost lost in translation had it not been for a probability of emoji ridden skirmish in a late bank holiday spring. no-one could imagine, upon crumbling desks and dis-used ink blotters, such striking permanence of an entire absence, and, in a suddenness of ecstatic alliteration, the seemingly poetic poet, who we will call unlikely, would have simply died a poets death among the classical drugs. but luckily for us he's there. and there he'll dangle, off horizons, behind ears.