Edith Stillwell, 94
Lies in Stillmouth Church Yard now.
Obese woman in Church yesterday
Did not feel well that night,
Now silently rots
In her bedroom
No one knows, no one checks
No one misses her yet,
Purple and black she turns.
The day has dawned, the sun visits the streets
And illuminates the pebble concrete of the shopping centre.
Lie still beautiful lover, see the new day born.
Let your hair spread on the pillow a little longer.
You are all he dreams of,
Your hips and stomach,
The firmness of your thighs.
You are young
And soon to be a mother and wife.