the king of longing,
dead but calling
with his lost head.
“put down the coup!”
he orders the troops
from his basket bed.
the armies gather,
argue “would you rather,”
all loyalties out bled.
king’s wife of strife,
queen of the knife;
a conspirator that fled.
upon pike impaled,
rude awakening unveils,
his united kingdom…
…finally dead.