So you go to see her,
because you realise she's dying,
and also
she has your copy of The Brittas Empire on VHS
and you don't want one of her sons taking it home
when they come to divide up her things.
Anyway, on a side table,
on a lace doily,
is a little ghost in a jar.
'It's me Mam,' wheezes Betty, lifting her oxygen mask.
You look, squint.
A misty purple thing with a vague face
stares back at you.
By jove, it is!
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