Gillian Swain #4 - Rather quiet neighbours

At work my neighbour 

is a mortician

Correct spelling keeps him distinct from beautician

and his fridge is bigger

than mine

He taps a gentle hammer

careful nails secure handles

She pulls satiny lining into just the right folds, shiny

braid to complete the edges

While I fill boxes  pack extra paper to limit movement

I think I'm bored as I pull tape  place sticker  check lists  fold

the paper  slip the label  He

is the beautician now as he combs and trims

fold the collar  slip the button  

finish off the finishing 

Through the doorway

sun pours onto the casket

gloss caramel and whitest white

Silver handles warm

like their touch

unlike their passengers

Their care sets intention

carries the pallbearers

The hearse will be washed and polished

and the mourning car

the day will come  as always

the show must go on

While I stack full boxes ready for the courier

they place bouquets  memorial wreathes

and kindness