Roy

Friends, Kosovoans, countrymen, lend me your claws;

I come to belittle Roy, not to harass him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their collarbones;

So let it be with Roy. The tactful Natalie

Hath told you Roy was yappy:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Roy answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Natalie and the rest–

For Natalie is a tense woman;

So are they all, all tense women–

Come I to speak in Roy’s funeral.

Next Chapter