Do you not yet understand, that whatsoever enters in at the mouth goes into the belly, and is cast out into the drain? Matthew 15:17 KJV
Even in the belly of the dead Christ bacteria
Breed. The cold flesh stirs to a murmur of trapped gas,
Blood pools in purple blooms along the back
And yes, bowels void and pop.
Even the skin will slip its moorings.
Leave the abstract to the Gods and air;
Despair, love, anger – vain ambitions,
Are nothing to the Dead.
In the cave behind the stone,
Meek matter reclaims its own.
In the queue at the corner shop, the lady with the zimmer frame
Buys two shop-soiled Easter Eggs and a can of Special Brew.
We do not meet her eyes, but stare instead at the floor. She has no shoes.
Her feet: swollen to a deep blue-purple, raw with roseate scabs and road-grit.
We wait as she fumbles for her monies in a purse more worn than used.
The shop assistant’s open palms: cupped, expectant of a falling gift.