Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

A woman three seats down 

has not drawn breath for 60 minutes. 

The laws of bodily function suggest 

she should be dead by now, 

A talking corpse 

still trying to win an argument, 

jaw hard wired to the epilogue. 

Another passenger entreats, 

‘Keep it to yourself, please’ 

She glares, as if all public space is hers by right 

but pauses at least, some blissful seconds, 

while I contemplate her funeral, 

bus route handy for the cemetery, 

a discrete group of mourners, 

the hushed, respectful conversations – 

‘Did you know the deceased well?’ 

Well enough by the time we reach the penultimate stop.