Wrap up warm, sit by the window and watch;
the psychopathic skateboarding axe murderer,
six wives: two beheaded, one sautéed,
two casseroled and the one that got away.
His older sister/carer runs after him yelling;
“Come back here you little sod. Wait til I get me mits on you.
I'll caress you with tenderness, massage you with unguents,
call you, 'My most beloved little brother. The best in the world.'
and see how you'll like that.”
An old woman passes by, muttering beneath her breath.
She skins cats, turns their fur into hats and gloves.
Feeds the flesh to her giant tortoise, Vladamire.
Burns fivers in the grate and defies the reaper
to come and get her.
The reaper passes on the other side of the road,
unassuming in his green quilted jacket and flat cap.
He has all of humanity in a tartan shopping trolley
that he pulls behind him.
“Get outta the way old man,”
yells the psycho skateboarder, fishing for his axe.
“Come back 'ere my darling little fucker,”
yells big sister, searching for her mittens.
“Come and get if you've got the nerve,”
mutters the old woman, fishing a cat out of a bin by its tail.
The reaper smiles, slowly, knowingly.
He's seen it all before