Glass Coffin Coffee Table Wife

Stiff under magazines in the afterlife

Glass Coffin Coffee Table Wife

She’d been married to a charmer

An enthusiastic embalmer

So when death claimed her/ he framed her

Laid her down/ took off her glasses

Preserved her with gases

Till death us do part

She’s now a work of art

With a hot mug mark

Inseparable in life/ inseparable in death

Invited round to meet the old ball and chain

Lift up your chips, sonny

She’s there-/ smiling squarely through the pane

In life/ she’d cooked all his meals

Now/ she’s been fitted with wheels

He pushes her to the supermarket-

Once more down the aisle 

She doubles up as a shopping cart/ loaded down

with pies/ pasties/ pastries/ toasties/ tasties/ and tarts

She’s surprisingly little trouble to park

This work of art

With a hot mug mark

February/ a burglary

He awakes to find his DVD/ CD/ TV/ gone

And so is she

His taxidermy bride alive on the outside

Her absence highlights how the sun has dyed the carpet

He doesn’t report it to the police

Too inconsolable with grief

Broken-hearted/ for his clear departed

Months later/ he/ too/ dies

At the same time in the capital

A dead woman/ in a glass coffin

Scoops the Turner Prize

Taken in the dark/ displayed as objet d’art

Forever more/ a work of art

With a hot/ mug/ mark

©Copyright 2018 Ash Dickinson