embedded six feet down.
your skull looks normal;
too much like mine.
The gods are relieved your reign is complete.
Plague, Old Testament kind;
blood, locusts, first born.
Did they bury you fancy,
with rings on; the sapphire
I gave you for your birthday.
Rest. There will be no dig; no museum,
no squandering of your remains,
Beautifully read by R.A.D. Stainforth ...