Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on January 5, 2010 0 Comments

Mrs Fitzgerald was the great
Leveller; she brought everyone
Down to her size with the sharp
Scythe of her tongue. Did you
See the Moran man come to his

Home blinded by the drink last
Night? she asked Mrs Bailey at
The back of the shop, her eyes
Looking up and down, her mind
Checking the prices, weighing

The sizes, calculating the number
Of times Mrs Bailey had worn
The same hat, coat, and shoes.
The man couldn’t find the keyhole
To save his life, poking around

He was; I’m not surprised he’s
Only the one child, her tongue
Delivered to the ear of Mrs Bailey
Who stood to one side on account
Of her poor hip, her hat planted on

Her head the wrong way round,
Her eyes taking in Mrs Fitzgerald’s
Chin rising and falling as the words
Flowed, her lips moving, the fine
Tongue in dance with the sounds

She made. And when he did get
The key in the lock he fell in
Through the door and onto the
Passage floor with an almighty
Thump causing the dust to rise

From their unthumped carpet,
Mrs Fitzgerald added bringing
Her arms to rest across the small
Undeveloped mounds of her breast.

About the Author ()

A man who seeks truth and friendship and hopes for abetter world.

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