Tutankhamun — Boy King

Save yourself — be careful not to get too close

Photo by Dilip Poddar on Unsplash

My face is fashioned in spring
looks younger somehow
full of hope &
anticipating a bountiful harvest
like the keeper of a grain store
in ancient Egypt

The best circus I ever saw
was Tutankhamun
the boy king & his entourage
a dozen alabaster & seraphim nights
in London — or thereabouts

We queued for hours with
my grandparents’ swollen feet
to learn the dark arts of siblings
how loved ones could
crater your skull
more easily than any
street-corner thug with a pistol

Somehow, we survived more
than sixty summers side by side
but rarely speak
no love lost between brothers
born too close in time

Survival is any dynasty’s aim
just ask that
12-year-old in the mausoleum
I chose exile instead
understand pyramids
are the paranoiac’s curse

Copyright Simon Heathcote

'Gold Mining' and other poems - Literary Yard