We write first in blood and tears, then go over in ink.

Archive for November, 2015


The wind drops to a breath
The trees forgot their gossip
The fishes in the shallows
Grinned an evil grin.
All creation nudged each other.
In the celestial heavens
The stars lay aside
Their icy indifference and ogled
This most unusual sight.

A bunch of women of varying weights and size
40-somethings pretending otherwise
In spangles, ruffles and spaghetti straps.
Kicking off their flats, platforms and
One pair of nude stilettos.
They advance with tofu-hard determination
A fearsome onslaught upon the sea.
Their complaints ring to the high heavens,

“Aiyoh, whose stupid idea is this?”

The first aunty falls
It is inevitable.
“Why so careless?”
“Be more careful!”

“It’s my birthday,” the oldest one cries out
She shakes a dimpled fist
At the years, the lines and the pounds.
“It’s my special day, I say!”
And tongue-whips her faltering sisters
To the edge.

“I’ll be dame if I don’t skinny-dip at least once!
Once! In 50 years! Is that too much to ask?
Once! Away with the children, the wok and the mop
Once! Keep the icing, throw the cake
Once! To dance with the law!”

“Is that a CCTV?”

The spangles, ruffles and straps go back on.
Flats, pumps and stilettos –
Galumphing figures grab and run.

And that
Was Aunty’s Jubilee climax
Birthed in the brewing pot
of incontinence, menopause and age spots.
Nevertheless, what a story for tomorrow’s breakfast, eh?

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