Funeral Service

Accidental rock clod, a slap of clay
flung from muddy puddles, swerved
catching an ill fated puck blown wind
thump! into the face of an unready combatant;
purple spread like Caesar in Gaul seeking glory
hedging in a blackening eye, a hollow brigade
whispered prayers and words best forgotten
ample apologies and obfuscations, boot plods
criminally squelched over lumpy ground –
in the bunker, a conspiracy of ravens emerged
springs were sprung as phones were rung
and an ancient hearse choked to life,
ready for the funeral service.

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