Head On Poem by Ima Ryma

For all my life I loved the stage.
Acting was in my flesh and bone.
When at last I died of old age,
I would not leave the itch alone.
While most of me was burned to ash
And scattered up and down Broadway,
My skull was kept to make a splash
As a prop in many a play.
Comedy or tragedy be,
I can be depended upon
For whatever skullduggery
Is scripted - the show must go on.

I hope the cast all break a leg.
But, please don't break this skull, I beg.