We smashed china cups, saucers,
sugar bowls, plates, teapots
on slabs of paved-over lawn –
ripped apart bodies of teabags,
scattered their unholy remains
amongst the splintered finery –
out of plastic kettles, we sloshed
hot water, drenched the mess
in pretend, ritual sterilisation –
and then we boogied, in the latest
footwear, on our cemetery site –
boozed up, music blaring from
shiny, postmodern sound devices.
