Does a body need a passport when it crosses borders?
Who vouches for the grimaced face if one is still attached?
A loadmaster or an administrative clerk?
A paper shuffler, a Northern line strap hanger in training shoes?
The piece of meat that once was a living thing, where will it come to rest?
The birds pecked it while it smouldered, recently detached.
I recall staring vacantly at the matted mess wondering whose flesh it was,
It didn’t matter anymore as both minds had ceased to function.
I will never know what part of you that carcass was….
I hope that it got home and someone lays flowers where it lies.
© Wolfgar 2020