I’ve always found Old Mother Hubbard
and her poor dog
unbearably sad
the look on the mutt’s face
trusting
hopeful
and Hubbard’s too
her sing-song voice
how about a lovely bone
and then the thud in her belly
the blank stare of that empty cupboard
the innocent confusion on his faithful face
but today I found the rest of the lyrics
the pipe
the bit about him standing on his head
playing a flute
who decided to amputate such joy
like building a fair
but only letting people get as far
as the line-up
like God thinking
it was a fine idea
to let us lose people
behind the cloak of death
never revealing what happens next
no matter how much we beg.