Diana

Like instant noodles

our freeze-dried hearts melt

for the dead princess

(just add television)

Nurses throw teddybears;

teddyboys, more confused, just stare

at the cameras whirring,

whirlwinds of emotion

whipping up historical trifles

from re-enacted slow turnoffs,

runaway cars,

wrecked and flattened tinsel crown.

The stockmarket of souls

advertises our inadequacy

to deal with ordinary death.

"But the people want it", someone says.

I'm bamboozled too

by the pomp and circumstance,

the glue of glitterazzi

holding the set pieces together,

the stupid flags on the Edgecliff Centre

still at half-mast ten days later.