Rey Muerto

Your Queen is dead –
Long live your King
until you shove him
on your guillotine’s
carved collar where
he’ll nod off – upon
love’s scythed arm –
it will be his dreamt
moment of demise –
not quite enough to
still torments [but it
was built to behead
without a quagmire
of blood & plaining –
a quite polite death]
Charles coughs into
his plucked ‘kerchief
as his butler exhales
to stall Covid’s creep


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