Daddy died
And the Jewless boy couldn’t mourn
His deprived
And shapeless ego
Without a song
To bury the dead
The faceless boy
Dug his ditches for his pennies
But could not feel the hole in his chest
Could not look into the coffin like a man
And take the cold hands into his own
Then the messenger called
And the second king lay over the hill out of sight
Only then could the boy put on his warrior’s paint
To face his tasks
To look into the coffin
And feel the crying pain in his chest
To take the cold hands into his own
And bury his father
As men do.