Headless

The redundant tiler
Comes to the king’s floor
To petition him
For the hand of his one daughter.

“King! My glorious King!
You are my Master, me
Your servant. I am not worthy, but I am
Without canvas.

If I could have one night
With your daughter, not for
That, but for her
To feel my warmth and work,

She would know, and you would see,
That my being is not done, and I could exist
To fulfil her life
And love her.”

All the king’s men
Begin to laugh in the chamber, but the king
Hushes them.
“You fools. You fools!

Can you not see: he is
The redundant tiler
Finally, and it is he
That my daughter seeks and loves!”

The king leaves his throne, with
His arms raised in the air,
And strides over
To the tiler.

“King!” shouts the tiler, and, “Redundant
Tiler!” shouts the king.
And the king
Drops to his knees

And they embrace
And cry in each other’s arms, before the king
Breaks away
To bellow again.

“Guard! You—guard!” The king points
To the nearest guard.
“Bring me my daughter!”
The guard

Looks confused, but the jester
Creeps past and taps
The guard’s right blazer
Pocket, the guard, relieved, putting

His hand inside
And pulling the king’s daughter from inside.
But as the guard
Walks towards the king and the tiler with the princess

She jumps from the guard’s hand,
And as she runs
Out the chamber
On her hands, the king

Releases the tiler, shouting, “Never!
Never!
Guard! Kill this
Redundant tiler

Before I change my mind!”
And the king
Backs away from the tiler.
“And so it goes,” says the

Tiler, and the guard
Removes his sword
And runs it through
The tiler’s neck.

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