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Donkin's World: A Municipal Death

Richard Donkins brings us a sombre poem.

I fear a municipal death,
My last breath on Earth,
Filed in a certificate,
Rubber stamped in triplicate.

Cold as a Buxted chicken,
Laid on a sliding shelf,
Bar-coded, toe-tabbed,
Giblet sealed and nylon bagged.

Silent, grey and frosted,
Stiff as the steel tray,
Screaming indifference,
Muted for my audience.

Bury him, no burn instead,
Its cleaner now hes dead,
His wishes are adjustable,
And perfectly combustible.

The frame of flesh and bone,
Around which draped a life,
Roasts in human conflagration,
Toasted in a ritual celebration.

The council makes a note,
Another life statistic,
Tick-boxed and crossed,
A good result and nothing lost.


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