Easter Road, Edinburgh

Written by: Andrew John

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.