I was resting quietly.
The ceremonies over.
The royal corpse, draped in riches, covered in tapestries and fine cloth was resting in my belly.
I thought, “That could not have gone better!”
I’ve heard stories of sepulchres
Filled up with snot nosed half-noblemen or dingy knights.
My friend down the alley had a bishop in his belly
That was so filled with ulcerous secrets that the marble around him started to crack.
I thought I’d gotten so lucky.
I sat peacefully content to be digesting such a magnificent morsel –
The choicest of cuts,
The king!
I had a few weeks as the celebrity of the cemetery.
Everyone was deferring to me and I had a sort of
Self satisfied smile on my face at all times.
Then one day, about a week ago,
My belly started rumbling. Something
Was turning around in there and it wasn’t the worms.
It was kicking and failing. I was burping up little bubbles of distasteful decay,
Until one day, the roiling in my innards became such
That everything from my belly rose
Into my gorge and before I knew what was happening,
King and contents were on the ground before me
With my jaws sealed up tight again
As if nothing had happened.
The Hamlet Project 