in my doom and tomb

who will lay with me in my doom and tomb?
not the physical cave of stone and steel
but the memory of those who presume
to know my heart in times and words reveal
it to them, an oracle of this man.
trouvare and troubled troubadour I wait
to see if final tapestries began
in my youth will get it right, and my fate
in the hands of enigmas of words spoke
and wrote and whis-pered in each century.
for I will not have say in the codes broke,
whether or not I was occult or free
in the revelation of passions burned,
will my Boleyn and Seymour be discerned?


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.