THE MUDDLED HEN
AT HER OWN FUNERAL
'Did she always have that bump,
or is that a final tick? She sure looks
pretty though, as good as the last
day I saw her.' The procession
took off down the Landing Lane,
and that noisy, crowded little
bridge. That was the plan, as
it went, not much. Now just an
urn, looking more like a box,
and some waters on the surface
of the lousy canal.
No comments:
Post a Comment