The day the dead king spoke the bomb
Into the ear of the man who counts the fuses
A Saturday, began like Friday had
The man who flattens the graves chose his
Favorite tractor from a row
Of tractors nobody but him could tell apart
The one he knew because
It waited always at the farthest left
Of the row, the man who didn’t know
For years his sons had repositioned all
The tractors every night, between
Whom, after the man dies, hatred and kill-
ing will obtain until a judge
Invalidates their claims to his estate
He dragged the flattener across the graves
The shallow grave of the baker caught
(His head) between the spokes of the wheel
Of the carriage of the king, the baker bowing
He flattened carefully as the gilt lawn of the tomb
Of the king, which, every morning
After he flattened it, the man would spray
Paint gold again, as flecks of gold
From the tires of the tractor glittered on
The neighboring graves, in which the dead had rolled
To face away from the tomb, and covered
Their withered ears, the day the king was buried
Who shouted for a phone into his panic phone
Who shouted Can you hear me
Into the Earth itself, face down and rigid as
A soldier at inspection
Arms at his sides, his eyes shut tight, who
Shouted I won’t be killed by an election
Who shouted till the desk of the man
Who counts the fuses shook as it had never shaken
Before. He set aside his book
He thought his instruments were broken
He searched the desk, but he found only fuses
He couldn’t say for sure were not attached to bombs
He pressed his ear to the desk
And heard the shouting from the tomb
And started, sat upright, afraid
But soon he pressed his ear to the desk again
He thought the shouting was the fuses shouting
With the voice of the dead king. The man
Who counts the fuses listened to
Their furious noise, then raised his head
Slowly and made a note on the calendar
Beneath the plastic on his desk, The dead
Now speak with the voice of the dead, the fuses
With the voice of the king. Could this technology
Be used to make remote bombs more effective
Explore, and the man starred the day
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Check out the other poems in our “…knave, beggar, coward…” Goodbye! series!
https://scoundreltime.com/knave-beggar-coward-goodbye-curses/
https://scoundreltime.com/knave-beggar-coward-goodbye-irreverence-alone/
https://scoundreltime.com/knave-beggar-coward-goodbye-two-poems-by-philip-fried/
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Image By: https://www.dreamstime.com/d-render-illustration-golden-toy-tractor-composition-isolated-white-background-shadows-golden-toy-tractor-image104444245