A Queued (From “Queued At World’s End”) by Paul Brookes

I am not a silent poet

life. Born to this line
of cotted bairns,

crocodiled infants, later slumped with others outside

a locked classroom wait for lessons,
marshalled exams desks.

Job interview stare at strangers,
ranked at work,

Drs, dentists waiting rooms,
appointmented even my wedding.

Waiting list for a council house,
parents evening line up with others.

Finally listed as deceased in papers, online.
Regimented plaque for my cremation.

As that world ends another begins.
Join another queue, another thought

of final judgement already delivered,
or forever pended.

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