half h’ face was blown, they said,
away. the baby sister’s
face was full of shrapnel.
had only one limb left, ’e.
mistakenly, on a mine,
stepped, where the Queen of Hearts asked
they clear those fields of landmines
they did not \ nor did the funds
her death raised
-——————————as if for fun;
all those millions should now be
who’s hid it for who’s dowry?
he, developed a boot, strong,
to walk through minefields, unhurt,
without any Diane dough;
you’ll not hear of that agin,
said the scotsman, not a train.
we didn’t. the news had naught new.
someone bought the rights \ silence;
legally bound him; till death:
time maybe slate cleans itself?
i remember it well; he
had mum’s maiden name a ‘Vaz’;
and he was of singapore
the Queen of Heart’s an heiress
for the poor and downtrodden;
but, they’ve swept her coins, under
the carpets in their own homes.
can i even evoke funds
for the cancer i’m promised /
predicted by the Sixties:
think they’ve regimented all
to fourty/twenty/ten packs,
though i’ve seen armoury,
a twenty-gun-cannon(?), shoot
arranged like a pack of cigs . . .