By Ash Dickinson (2002)

Stiff under magazines in the afterlife

Glass Coffin Coffee Table Wife

She'd been married to a charmer

An enthusiastic embalmer

So when death claimed her/ he framed her

Laid her down/ took off her glasses

Preserved her with gases

Till death us do part

She's now a work of art

With a hot mug mark

Inseparable in life/ inseparable in death

Invited round to meet the old ball and chain

Lift up your chips, sonny

She's there-/ smiling squarely through the pane

In life/ she'd cooked all his meals

Now/ she's been fitted with wheels

He pushes her to the supermarket-

Once more down the aisle

She doubles up as a shopping cart/ loaded down

with pies/ pasties/ pastries/ toasties/ tasties/ and tarts

She's surprisingly little trouble to park

This work of art

With a hot mug mark

February/ a burglary

He awakes to find his DVD/ CD/ TV/ gone

And so is she

His taxidermy bride alive on the outside

Her absence highlights how the sun has dyed the carpet

Too inconsolable with grief

Broken-hearted/ for his clear departed

Months later/ he/ too/ dies

At the same time in the capital

A dead woman/ in a glass coffin

Scoops the Turner Prize

Taken in the dark/ displayed as objet d'art

Forever more/ a work of art

With a hot/ mug/ mark