The doctors have been and gone. Not sickness,
Just the slow disintegration of the flesh. A new
Shape to him, a bending - there seems an acridness
To the air around him. He has the same blue
Blooded authority, still, the same kingliness in
His orders but woven through there is a waver
To it, an old man’s voice growing weak and thin.

The older sisters arrived after the diagnosis
Was already given as age, after Cordelia had taken
To standing by him, her hands twitching in a neurosis
Of interrupted movement. They were all shaken
By the suddenness of the collapse, even the King,
Although the onset was gradual, blasphemous
Almost, he keeps remembering it and saying nothing.