Heap
By Cate Sawers
It used to be this dirty old nag
that never did what I said
and I was careful where to touch
cos road grime lurked everywhere
many meals consumed
muddy boots and free-form coffee
angry, tired cat essence
ice cream
smoke
crash.
It sat on the curb like an injured animal
that escaped from home to be hit by a drunk
and left to suffer until I awoke
it was too late anyhow
rigor mortis passed
rip out seats
dig through trunk
collect the plates
bid adieu
Adieu.
I like your poem.
Thank you.