When the Knacker Man Visits the Barn

he’s polite, says please bear with me
as he heaves our dead pony onto his cart.

He doesn’t mind picking out bullets, setting
cracked knees, getting blood on his white cottons.

His aim is to make the dead look good as they depart.
He wants them to go naturally.

As he leaves, we see our pony’s eyes shining
like rock pools, her hooves tucked neatly away.

We shout goodbye! and no one retches. We shout goodbye!
and remind ourselves that death is not the end for her.

We know that ponies can do anything, can become
anything: a lily, a leather jacket, a new book,

a sleek and carnivorous mink.