Auntie Sarah’s
Carer’s
Pallbearers’
Nostrils flare as
They imperceptibly shift the weight on all four of them there.
And in a world that’s been declared
As fit simply for billionaires
Don’t fret you can’t compare
Whether this or that is fair.
However clean the air is,
However loud the prayers
And however fixed the pallbearers’
Long, inscrutable stares,
It’s invariably rare
That a shroud becomes its wearer.