China and lipstick Cling film and crusts Grandchild combed Like corn to sickle. A hot iron breathing Black shirt grieving Mother veiled leaving Bored Aunt weaving. Hearse black sky Dressed for my Father Moaning from the weight of dead He's water on dust again. Psalms murmured Corinthians butchered Organ fearing children Vicar rejoicing From the sound of his voice. Treadmill to Jesus In motion with Vivaldi Goodbye Father Flame to silt. The slow procession exit Gets faster from the grave They remember the buffet Striding to their cars Curtain vultures wait For tea and quiche lorraine. Vicars egg mayo smile Spitting my Fathers name Your not fit to say it You looked down on him in life Down on him in death No he looks down on you Choking hypocrite. I walked into his shed Planed and finished his table Then doused it in paraffin And danced around the flame.