Distant tribesmen bore the corpse away The stomach slit and stuffed with marsh plants Frankincense and parsley Concubine, cook and cupbearer strangled Horses slaughtered A casual collective death Under a barrow of earth
The walking ashes and talking dust Had no such burial ground No cenotaphs or monumental spaces equal to the task Instead a lead sarcophagus Built to last a hundred years Interred the fragments of a flagless nation Erased from every map
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