He was buried without a coffin
without a grave
the scavengers performed the post mortem
in the open mortuary
without rifles put up
in front of the night club

Monochrome Photo of Statue

shuttering rifles put up
the gun salute of the day
that was a state burial anyway
the car knelt
the red plate wept, wrapped itself in blood its master’s

the dairy revealed to the sea
the rain anchored there at past
isn’t our flag red, black and white?
so he wrapped himself well
who could signal yellow
when we had to leave politics to the expert
and brood on books
brood on hunger
and schoolgirls
grumble under the black pot
sleep under torn mosquito net
and let lice pick our intestines
the lord of the bar, money speaks madam
women magnet,  money speaks madam
we only cover the stinking darkness
of the cave of our mouths
and ask our father who is in he’ll to judge him
the quick and the good.

Well, his diary, submarine of the third world war
showed he wished
to be buried in a gold laden coffin
like a VIP
under the jacaranda tree beside his palace
a shelter for his grave
and much beer for the funeral party

anyway one noisy pupil suggested we bring
tractors and plough the land.