The maggots

One morning in the village, millions of maggots
At the cemetery appeared protesting about hunger.
They merged into a big fat pink ball with tiny feet
chanted: we want more corpses, the supply side
has let us down
It had been hitherto a healthy village few people died
those who did were elderly with meagre flesh
The day after the covid struck, the supply was fine
despite nurses and doctors valiant work to stop
this avalanche of untimely death.
As for the maggots, not a pip from, say, complaining
of too much to do.