long live The King



Elvis lives!

his fans used to insist

and anagrammatically speaking

so he does

they refused to recognise

the grave he occupied was his:

The King ain’t dead!

long live The King! 

they daubed on walls

or words something like

and there were sightings

here there and everywhere

they just wouldn’t and couldn’t

let go and despair:

he was on Mars

he was locked

in the Bermuda triangle

he was busking in Nashville

he was reborn as his twin

he was walking on water in Galilee

he was even holed-up

down at the end of Lonely Street

in Heartbreak Hotel


sightings are rarer these days

and he’s getting on a bit

well more than a bit

to be fair

if he’s miraculously still out there

he’s in his eighties now

too wizened to wear

diamante-studded jump-suits

and flashy prizefighter belts

even so

he may yet dye his hair

only the other day

I clocked an old gent

with implausibly black locks

toothlessly humming Don’t be cool

to himself

while buying TV dinners

in the local Lidl


could he really be The King 

I was moved to wonder

maybe his soul

goes marching on after all

and drew closer to ponder

if that clockwork Wooden Heart

was still beating beneath

his thermal vest

late as ever in life

I missed my moment

no sight no sound

he’d dematerialised again

all the same

just because nobody saw his face

when he spent one day

in London in 1958

doesn’t mean he wasn’t there

so I’m keeping a sharp-eye open

for any kinda Memphis fuss

Elvis Lives!

of course he rockin’ does…..




Jeff Cloves

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