By Jane Hyphen
Sandy is breaking
Her face is cracked, roasted leather
A bad good marriage drained her
Twenty years at the back of a shelf
Three grown children her medals
They saved her from herself
She can't stop the smokes
It's calming, good for Crohn's
But the darkside of her teeth is black
She doesn't know but when she laughs
A belly laugh, her head thrown back
There's tarmacadam layered thick
And how she loves the sun!
That mole could surely kill her
Does she know how it looks?
Has she held up mirror next to mirror?
Swollen, shrivelled - raw and cooked
Inside she twinkles, she's twenty
A new man came to love her
He fills her up, she runs on empty
Sandy was adopted, sent away
She made herself lovable
And how that family loved her!
Without the nuances of kin
The too close for comfort DNA
How has she stayed so slim?
From the back, in jeans, she's a mere bud
Less than thirty I'd have betted
But her face has blossomed, fruited, bletted
She shines on, but what remains
When all the bodywork has gone?
Surely not just a hole
Her energy - a dancing flame
Sandy I'm repulsed and yet I love your soul