This poem is taken from Stand 212, 14(4) December 2016 - February 2017.

Don Staines Two poems
Plain Song for Henry

A king was died and times is out of joint
because he never did just die, he suicided. Took himself
as Yahweh took Enoch, betimes.
Did a dire ‘n supreme act, himself in.
No getting away from that.
Jumped off a bridge. Whacked flat.

Stuff there enough for a book – which this be  
– ‘bout Henry’s book & him too as
sort of a king. Him? Ha! Henry to himself was a ‘we’
and one of ‘em was dead already
after his Dad topped himself
wiv a gun. Nasty, and the boy eleven.

Worse, his Mum was a symbiotic cannibal
O, and no getaway away from that. Except
to write ferocious, drink reckless, screw unforgiving,
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