Sky Burial

Sky burial: an act of generosity

no different from taking unwanted stuff

to the Oxfam shop, nothing’s wasted.

Vultures, worms, who cares?

Deciding to donate is what counts

– worms get their dinner by default.

Teachers used to say, What if everyone

were to do that? I thought: stupid question,

they don’t. But now, what if I buy

a TV set, swathed in plastic

and fat polystyrene chunks?

So does everyone else, everywhere.

When they made the first ever

polystyrene foam, and it set –

next day, where did they junk it?

I’m so individual, eccentric,

no-one else like me, strange

how everyone else is like me.

I have a million bodies! More

than I can handle. Now what?

I’m a bull in a china shop.

Even the most docile ones

occasionally flick their tails. Every

poem is basically a riddle.

carrying the dead past the rubbish

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