Someone

　　 by Dennis O'Driscoll

　　 someone is dressing up for death today， a change of skirt or tie

　　 eating a final feast of buttered sliced pan， tea

　　 scarcely having noticed the erection that was his last

　　 shaving his face to marble for the icy laying out

　　 spraying with deodorant her coarse armpit grass

　　 someone today is leaving home on business

　　 saluting， terminally， the neighbours who will join in the cortege

　　 someone is paring his nails for the last time， a precious moment

　　 someone's waist will not be marked with elastic in the future

　　 someone is putting out milkbottles for a day that will not come

　　 someone's fresh breath is about to be taken clean away

　　 someone is writing a cheque that will be rejected as 'drawer deceased'

　　 someone is circling posthumous dates on a calendar

　　 someone is listening to an irrelevant weather forecast

　　 someone is making rash promises to friends

　　 someone's coffin is being sanded， laminated， shined

　　 who feels this morning quite as well as ever

　　 someone if asked would find nothing remarkable in today's date

　　 perfume and goodbyes her final will and testament

　　 someone today is seeing the world for the last time

　　 as innocently as he had seen it first