Mortuary Tables Limited
by Bob Houlston
info

She was just seventeen, you know what I mean.
A quiet young lady, soon to be with baby.

From womb to tomb it's life was in doom.
“Birth defects may arise“ as the fumes stung her eyes.

“The fumes are perfectly safe, don't make a fuss.
No you can't have fresh filters, the cost is too much!“

The man-agers breathe fresh air that's upstairs.
PCB assemblers come cheap, so who really cares?

The smiley is crying because workers are dying...  :-(

poetry comp


© Copyright Bob Houlston