• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 04
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See her face in that tight circle,
the eyes forced out of the back of her head
with their demands – look at me!

Her voice is too small, is bulked up
harnessed by eye pencil, hair-dye, primped
curls and stringy bandanna...why

isn’t she rattling a walking stick,
hacking words down a loudhailer to cut
into digital attention-span?

Make-up doesn’t make up old faces;
it sits like Miss Muffet on a tuffet while
slowly trickling, irritating – not

irrigating. When age supersedes
camouflage, the big drums must be worn
with a gadget to aid banging.

Louder, with a fresh face showing
its lines and the truth of a long life being
re-vitalised through necessity…

because any old body banging
anything is noticeable. Louder and you have
a bullet thrumming in their brain.