RAINE REFLECTIONS
www.RaineReflections.com
© Christopher Raine
This is the end,
deep down we know,
idly weaving nooses
while coarsely debating
the existence of hemp
our flagging flock
lead to demise
never asking where
wool comes from
or why the rack of meat
smells so delicious
Bummer
A soiled T-shirt
two sizes too small
stretches loudly in gallows mirth
“It’s all coming to an end,”
it laughs, “it’s already too late.”
family smiles recede like glaciers
a white-shirted orderly removes
the offending garment
to be ironed and pressed
The hospice news drones on;
a background of unoffending,
manicured voices flirt
in quiet discomfort
we watch as reason drowns
in a bottle of piss;
pretentious pundits
pondering its vintage