The Bad Last Ruler

"Death makes me hungry," he said,
Most inappropriately
For a stranger at a wake,
But, it should be said, he did
Appear alarmingly lean,
His cheekbones alone could vouch.
We all wanted him fed, soon,

But no one knew what to say.
The widow herself was wise
Enough to know that saying
And hearing were meat and drink
To one in a state like his,
Which was what his comment meant.
She regaled him with stories

Of the deceased, her husband,
In which, always, her husband
Seemed a bit more heroic
Than he ever had in life,
But entertainingly so,
Not implausibly. At last,
The famished, gaunt-cheeked guest left.