Whose Choice Anyway

like an irritating piece of dust in the very corner of a skirting board a long thin nozzle entered my sanctuary/death cell and I was sucked into oblivion along with bits of my brother all courtesy of the National Health Service In California some beloved dogs when they expire are buried in oak coffins with gold handles Respectful mourners attend and weep accordingly We were poured into a black plastic sack not a hymn nor a prayer was heard We were going to be twins my brother and I Stewart Henderson The Liverpool poet