MAGALLANES' TOMBSTONE Comments

Five serious wounds befell me
and of them all, the smallest
was fatal.
Five darts wounded me
equal parts poison
and blade.

These darts adorning me
hurt the more for rendering me
prostrate.
Birds scoff at me.
How will I defend myself
subjugated.

I used to be well-loved.
Who could imagine that used to
be the case.
Now that I'm debilitated
nobody sings
my praises.

Under the orchard flowers
white worms delve into
my crown.
No one's dug a grave for me,
a place to rest my
cranium.
...
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