Al Qaeda Poem by kathleen bartholomew

Al Qaeda

In apartment number 53,
lay a dead man’s corpse aged 83.
A discovery; been there they said for 8 weeks or more.
What are the people like next door?

The men went in, armed with mask and yellow suit.
The body was in bed, wet;
stinking- made them puke
those without the mask and yellow suit.

They poked and pulled and got down to the task
of taking the body away.
They put what they could in a plastic bag, with a tag.

The maggots were left for the sweeper up.
The bed and the rubbish
went to the tip
Medical Waste it read.

They sent for the men to disinfect;
to deal with the pests,
like the rats and the insects, that invaded the flat.
money was found under the mat.

Some men turned up at five to four-
with poison, for cupboards and floor.
By that time the rats had long since gone-
following the body through the door.

When all is done and the flat is clean,
a new family will move in there.
They’ll never know the plight of this man,
his misery, indignity and fear.

This intrigues me, and so I ask,
where do the flies and rats go?
And, does his money just go into the flow?

By Kathleen Bartholomew