Death Row

Standing at the kerb waiting to cross
I turn up my collar against
The homeless
The empty tins
The dogs on strings
And the wind and rain
Of Christmas Eve in Camden.
As I take in the tawdry street decorations
A hearse carrying a child’s white coffin glides by.
It’s so close I could touch it
And it touches me
That Death could still dance among the tat and the tinsel
With such delicate steps
And laughing, leave the floor with a child in its arms
At Christmas

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