A woman shopping – Denis Glover
Beauty goes into the butcher’s shop
Where blood taints the air;
The chopper comes down on the block
And she pats her hair.
Death’s gallery hangs ready
Naked of hair and hide,
But she has clothes on her body
And a heart inside.
What’s death to the lady, pray?
Even shopping’s a bore.
- The carcasses gently sway
As she goes out the door.
But death goes with her on the way:
In her basket along the street
Rolls heavily against her thigh
The blood-red bud of the meat.
O'Sullivan, V. (Ed.). (1979). An anthology of twentieth century New Zealand poetry. Wellington: Oxford University Press.