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Easter Road, Edinburgh
She was in her prime,
Her slender body
Is still intact, no wounds but
Her mouth –
It is open and her teeth
Are red . . . red and jagged,
Like an impaler’s spikes
On which many a tiny creature
Has squeaked its last.
Blunt grey eyes stare ahead
Still, not comprehending,
But blindly aware of something.
Perhaps someone should move her,
Throw her into a dustbin
Or into someone’s garden.
The unheeding traffic
Has completed its task
And sweeps blindly past.
– 2 –
Here lies McPuss,
Hit by a bus.
Requiescat in pace.
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