Ant Smith

Mortality

A Mighty Celebration

Last night I dreamt my lovely wife was my sister in a weird yet not a pervy way

I had no sons and yet there were lovers who got upset when I forgot their names

And all my friends they were the absent brothers who's jackets always got in the way

And parents seemed to belong to others for others always seem to look the same

In the aftermath of smashing party plates there's a crack'ed mirror's fine mosaic

Meanwhile in the garden the cats were eating dogfish while the gnomes all made a wish

With familiar faces in the papers with my sticky fingers in their eyes

I was in a bloody mess from another fine apocalyptic zombie fest

Took a sweeping broom for trace elements of elephants in the corner of the room

It was the best of times the worst of times between anticipation and decay

And it was such a mighty celebration for the very end of end of days

Mortality