Dusty Deathwatch

When future King Macbeth was but a bairn
With six brief candles burning on his cake
Had yet the Sisters Weird prepared the cairn
Commemorating all the lives he’d take?
Were Banqsy and the Duffster good as dead
Before they’d even learned to wash their hands?
When cowlicks formed the crown atop Beth’s head
Had Fate already issued her commands?
When memories of marching woods were green
And children dared their friends to say The Name,
Did some hypothesize a time machine
With which to kill Macbeth ere he became
His generation’s Hitler? Could the lad
Have ducked his luck, or was it ever bad?


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