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