Early morning and alone
The bar fire finally burned out
and death came to visit
Mable
as high as fifty story
he did not hesitate
Nor ask for meter coin
Frost spiked her, the devils friend
The cruel world  froze the air
And in mid breathe a longer gasp
The sorry room  fell silent
Slow rocking motion
ceased
decrepit in her chair
Tragic and alone.

And upon realisation
They burst the door
3 weeks later
found jumble piles
and cards listed
tumbled
and corners curled twisted
and ramshack
shocking hair hurled
and letterbox had fluttered
with blue rinse samples
And the world had turned
And zombies stuttered
Without her
And nothing was debated
About her.
And no one mourned her
Except the utility unpaid-
Death in Kind she was

There they lay
made out to Mable

crawling from envelopes
Final reminders
her legacy had come to zer0
for no one bothered to dig
about her
or ask around her
they seemed to take only from her
yet giving hands warm
bristles tarred
even her paintings
were tossed
with tin lids
of bean cans
in bin bags
and with unfeeling
of manual workers
detached
the daily job
of the maggots hatched
and the skip despatched
an unfitting procession
down the road