lives on moth soup
the string keeping up his green pants
strangled a barking dog outside the boarded up all night off-licence.
For twenty years he delivered ice to fishmongers
from the mouth of the Thames to Greenwich.
They lived on the best salmon cuts
lobster on her birthday Dover sole for his.
He never accepted the Doctor's prognosis
and when his beloved wife died
he packed her body in bed with ice
kissed her brow like always
left a note for the milkman
and gently as ever, closed the front door.
-By David Crystal
Friday, October 15, 2004
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