Carapace shoes
Reflect hollow eyes
Peering downward
Past the marcescent heart
Stuck to the ribcage
Like an old steak
Welded to the back of the freezer
Unfit for the offering
Unworthy of the sacrament
They dismissed mine
And took my friend’s instead
While it was fat and hot
With sadness and whiskey
We all wish we were meeting
Under different circumstances
A picnic in the park
Or a day at the seaside
But here we are
Dreadful business
He’s at peace now
We did what we could
Life is so unfair
That’s no age
Just look at his poor mother
The white shirt is cold
And the black tie strangles
My threadbare head
When the birch meets my shoulder.