Watching Uncle fester.

they place him ornamentally between the telly

and the fire, like a tall sideboard with meat in

and no doors, he isn’t bothered, more

furniture than else, his nip alone spoiling

the visual symmetry of cheap veneer,

 

flies struggle for grip on his shiny slopes

while a spider seeks refuge in a nostril,

displaying  little nose for danger,

visitors come and go, some touching,

some avoiding while others just make sure

the old b*****d is really dead,

 

wheelchair bound for most of his life, I recall

how much longer he was than ever tall,  

with no further sign of Mr spider the casket lid

was fixed into place, sealing a sealed fate as it were,

a closing reminder of ‘gone’

 

with a necessary tilt required for exit, uncle is allowed

to concertina slightly, his waxy nose squeaking like a

child’s violin as it wiped the cheap internal laminate

followed by a double knee knock, closed

by a slow and solitary stitch threatening mahogany fart,

(the sort indeed that start small wars) after a short pause,

dignified by silence the ceremony continues, slowly

down the path to the hearse,

 

then done in a few silent seconds.