When driving by his house
I always slow down
to have a look,

and when I do,
there appears to be a carcass
hanging in the window.

I could, but I am passing
late at night, and the inside
is only lit by a burning fire.

It is the dim glow of a flame,
in fact. By that time, it’s just
embers, nothing more.

I could, but I am also passing
on a very steep hill.
Parking would be a risk

and I’d have to slam the door
hard – another consequence of
the incline –

this forgetting the fact I
need to get home to my own family
to say goodnight.

It could be, of course,
and the outline of a carcass
isn’t ingrained by experience,

yet I’ve passed a butchers too,
and seen those trucks that
pull up outside, unloading.

Yes, this is true. But
in my experience, the authorities
ask too many questions.

I will. But only one more time.
After that, I am taking
another route.

And I should have said
only for
the last two nights;

at other times
it has been carcass free
or the curtains drawn.

I have always enjoyed
driving at night,
but not lately.


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