bobbed
up
in
the
sea
by
the
vessel
where
the
king
paced
on
the
ship's
deck:
yes
I
want
a
burial
said
the
bobbing
flesh
stinking
half-rotting
but
more
I
want
justice
and
my
Soul
you
did
not
hang
not
was
thrown
in
the
sea
but
flew
long
long
before
almost
as
the
rope
tightened
my neck:
now
hear
my
echoing
crypts;
for
these
haunt
even
beyond
my
will
beyond
desire
Justice be that
Justice
works that way
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem