Still Life

immortalised by a pencil
this companionable heap
- mutely poised -
will never become carcasses

carcasses are far too nearly nothing
for comfort
rubbish to be thrown away
without a second thought

- cheap in death -

but when I go I’ll be cremated
not bagged up and put out
on a thursday night

along with the cat’s trophies
and the slimy remains
of last sunday’s roast
cold and redundant

I’ll go from A to B in a flash
- without decaying -
or providing food for wriggling things
under the ground

and I won’t smell
it’ll be clean and efficient
tidy and quick
- for sure -