If death’s a dunce, dying’s a bore—
His incompetent son;
Neither knows what they’re doing it for,
Just that it must be done.
The father apologetic,
Dull, but insistent,
The son, half-witted—a pathetic
Neither familiar with amity,
Mercy or ritual,
Their stock in trade - burnt-toast calamity,
If the one could be set on t’other,
No quarter or halfing,
Life locked away - (she’s their mother),
Gods would die laughing.