Epitaph

Put me in a binbag
When I pass away
I really don’t mind at all
‘Cos where I’m put I’’ll stay

They come on Thursday morning you know
In their Phoenix truck
So throw me up in the back
I’ll be undiscovered with any luck

It’s reassuring to know you see
That nobody cares at all
In this time of monetary cutbacks
To economise with the funeral

If the council should complain
Saying “ it’s not our job mate “
To cart away late personages
T’is a job that we really hate

The journey out wasn’t too bad
The truck was in fact rather cosy
The in-flight meal was garbage though
And the pedestrians are rather nosy

And now the sun is going down
Over this council tip
It really is quite nasty here
I don’t think it was worth the trip
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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Buhain-Baello Avatar
September 1, 2017 at 9:12 AM
Prolific humor about death and funerals and you wrote it remarkably, I really enjoyed reading this poem, and the title is perfect too. Great last line.
Eaton Avatar
September 1, 2017 at 3:35 PM
Thank you Cynthia, it was written whilst in the throes of double pneumonia many years ago, out of frustration for the doctors taking time to diagnose.
Pigeon Tart Avatar
September 1, 2017 at 7:25 AM
*giggle* enjoyed, love the morbidity :)
Eaton Avatar
September 1, 2017 at 3:35 PM
Thank you Maureen.
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