Vultures bone


My body’s cold, decomposition’s started,
The worms are waiting for their feast,
My souls departing, my bodies gone,
I’m floating upwards, spiralling down,
Who is the person wearing the white gown?

I’m looking in a window,
I think it’s my house,
My coat is still hanging there on the hook,
My dinner’s mouldy; the milk has gone off,
Was my wallpaper really that rough?

Someone is coming,
Their footsteps I hear,
I don’t think I know them,
It’s just not too clear,

They’re touching my stuff, making their claim,
I’m not sure I like it, they have no shame,
They do it with gusto; they do it with need,
I hate to think it but I sense greed,

But who are these people that think they are owed?
Not one of them came when I needed a chat,
Not one of them crossed the Welcome mat,
Not one of them visited my ailing body,
Not one of them helped when I was mugged in the street,
Not one of them gave an arm when I shuffled,

I want to tell them, I want to shout,
That’s my stuff get the hell out,
But now that my body has left the green earth,
My voice is a whisper my body a mist,
I just don’t think they’d get the gist,

My house is now empty, my stuff is now gone,
The people who took it don’t even know,

That chair they now sit on used to be mine,
I bought it because of the beautiful pine,
The dress they now launder I wore on a date,
The last time I wore it I dropped a plate,
The machine they now sew with I loved, I desired,
I used it for dress jobs when I was hired,
The watch they now wear I chose from a book,
It used to reside on a decorative hook,

I wish I could tell them, I wish they could see,
I wish they would show some revere,

I wish they’d been there when the stuff was important,
Instead of a time when I’m no longer here,
A lifetime of stuff that they’ve cleared in a week,
Anyone would think my life was just cheap,

I don’t need it now but don’t grab it either,
In life it meant something, in death not so much,
But have some respect it’s my god damn stuff!

Michelle Cadby 3.4.2014


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