KING

King
A reading by the poet

I slew Goliath! And nobly done;
just where he fell, from my slung stone,
I struck off his head with his own great sword,
I took his life, because I feared.

I took from another man his life,
enjoyed his woman; I gave him as prize
to fight my battle, and die for me:
that was my will, my finest hour.

I might well have let Goliath live,
beaten, brought low, in praise of me;
but Uriah, never! in his wife’s eyes
only the clean break commends the king.

The kill, decreed for every rebel,
I would forego, on my own son, defiant.
But fleeing, entangled, they brought him, dead.
And my joy in my harsh will turned to gall.

Only my son Absalon overthrew me.

From A Peck O' Poems for the 99%
by JK Burnham