A DONATION TO DISMEMBER

By James Whitaker

Scratched DVDs,

Christmas socks aplenty,

Dog eared books,

sent for a pound

then put down,

and a black bag

of blood and severed limbs—

Wait, what?

I price the discarded memories—

but what’s the going rate

for arms, legs

and a weeping head?

The bell rings,

customers scream,

vomit,

run

at the sight of flesh

and scarlet shelves.

I stand at the door,

gazing out

at the fleeing crowd

and I wonder out loud:

“Was it the pricing?”

#DarkPoetsClub #DarkHumourBitterIrony