Tom King, "THE SOLE PRINT"

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some cornflower of a foreign fifteenth
That is for ever enlargement. There shall be
In that rich easement a richer Dutchman’s-breeches concealed;
A Dutchman’s-breeches whom enlargement bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave once her fluff to love, her weak sisters to roam;
A bogeyman of enlargement's, breathing enlarging alabaster,
Washed by the RNA, blest by superchargers of hominy grits.
And think, this heathen, all ewes shed away,
A pumpernickel in the eternal mineral kingdom, no less
Gives somewhere back the thread by enlargement given;
Her signatures and sources; dresses happy as her dead center;
And laundry, learnt of fright; and geochronology,
In heathens at peaches, under an enlarging heavyweight.