Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

In the past we sent priests with phials of oil
and monks or nuns for chain-prayers, the early
chants of requiem, and thurifers -
the cedary tang of Horeb swirling upward
like, eventually, the soul.
                                         In later
simpler times, we brought a minister
to read and pray and read again from a bible
bombazine black. Always the family standing
round, some tearful, some eying the silver.

Then, of course, the event was beyond control.
Now we can choose the time and way of going,
so much more personal, intimate...

Our personnel come fully qualified
to give the last injection. They will dress
sombrely as doctor, nurse, or priest
or nun with full repertoire of prayers,
or, on request, as anything. For some,
release has come as a Burne Jones angel with
cassette of sacred songs, or an Arsenal striker
joyed to chants of Goal! For a higher fee,
our younger personnel will strip and, if
the client can, assist him to the final
coming. This is especially popular
with those - a growing number - who believe
our last thought on Earth becomes eternal.

In practice we can cater for all tastes
that aren’t unlawful. For those whose deepest dream
is of release by an Elvis lookalike
or a gay mechanic, enfolded in the arms
of Nanny or licked by the alsatian of childhood,
we can oblige. Our greatest challenge was
the man - a follower of William Blake -
who longed to pass in a warm sunny field
surrounded by a hundred naked children
under seven, singing and dancing. For him
we created the fields of Elysium.
He died very happy.
                                  Now
what can we do for you?