You suddenly squeak breathlessly like a squeezed rubber toy
you scream and scrabble in my kitchen, I am paralysed.
you doomed freak of black and white you with your
cockaded soul
self-freed self housed and now self trapped behind the hunching white
appliances that loom and glitter on the lunch stained wall.
The reasoned breach between these units will not admit the most starved arm
or straining finger, no broom nor torch can bruise or burn or succor you
charity’s green cheese is scattered on the waxed inlaid
linoleum
(in death you smell the vinegared sponge) pragmatic mouse afraid to wait
for loaves and fishes, frightened to inch within a mouse- length of the bait
afraid to sleep inside the box contrived for you a grocer’s
carton
rag-padded screened, stocked with a doll’s dish of water and the choicest crumbs
to nourish you. Did you find freedom behind the stove ice- box and sink?
Untemptable mouse, soon dead, and no one nothing can remove your stink
no light invade your coffin to focus on your rank ironic corpse
The Last Trump
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