(Note: I worked on this poem a long time, trying to decide between free verse and a much stronger structure. I like the balance of what I ended up with, and what it forced me to omit.)

Valley of kings
Tomb-lined,
Filled with spoil:
All the valuable things
For the after-life
Of the comfortable royal.

My steps break the silence
Heavy at midday,
Forming a portent.

There is one for me here.
Time funnels around it—
Changelessness for
The weary of change.

Fresh-sculpted monument
For a young Pharaoh,
Reign and rule shortened.

Winding and binding
Halfway completed,
My heart in a jar
Still restlessly beating,
I protest aloud,
Lacking any great feeling.