The Corpse Gate
I called it a tithe gate –
but it is a lychgate –
I confused it with barns –
my first mistake –
Here are the lost bones
of dead English words –
and here a brutal joinery
hewn by blunt saws –
Here the just-deceased
were propped overnight –
Here guarded ‘gainst theft
by snatchers on the sly –
Laid still – after carriage
on the rough corpse road –
under this shelter
for one night’s repose –
Wood knots – whales watching –
here the whorled grain –
This was not God’s work –
but of man’s own domain
51.23290660.5322394