Scrabble Cue

A quag is a marshy boggy spot, I quoth.
A quant is little more than a punting pole.

Go throw a quoit, you’ve had your quota.
Be quiet now while I sew a quilt for the quins.

I wait a quint or musical interval before
I pick up a quire, four sheets of paper.

Please, don’t send me to quod, I quip.
Don’t quiz me, quit while you’re ahead.

You call me a quean, an impudent girl.
We quiver, quaggy, quanting.
Yawling, yearning, yodeling, yelping.

The Party

Out in the yard
the men are flogging dead horses
while inside
the women are baking scones.
You are the minute hand
controlling the clock
so we don’t run out of time,
but you could just as easily
be mistaken for the fly
on the wall, because
you don’t do small talk.
It’s not easy being
wasted space.

Well of Being

Drive north past the sign
for the Well of Being.
Picture the lost souls
unburdening themselves
inside, searching for their
wounded child.

Inside the Well of Being
nightly excesses are curtailed.
You wouldn’t believe the secrets
revealed before lights out.
Nothing leaves this room.

Groups, couples and singles
are all welcome.
Queens or kings are
available for couples only
Singles can share twins.
Sex before dark is taboo.
Cooking in your room is forbidden.
Speak only when spoken to.

Wounded children
curl up with their favourite
bête noirs and utter one
last primal scream.
Here families of origin
can all go to Hell.

Baby Doll’s Signature Shape

You dream you are
floating out the window
wearing your linen coat,
teamed with a taffeta skirt
in an intoxicating hue of
chartreuse, the one with
the raffish hem.

You know how to accessorise.
I note the pocket-sized purse,
the cashmere cardigan,
complemented by
the glittering amethyst
necklace. Everything
about you is perfect.

I just love your
stay-in-place hair.
Yesterday, you wore
soft chiffon and silk.
Last week, you tried on
girlie ruffles and bows.
Today, you prefer the
babydoll top.

Or maybe the red
cropped jacket?
Romantic layers?
Or this strapless
gun-metal grey
satin gown? It’s your
signature shape.

You have straddled a day
full of so many changes
of garments and moments
of wild doubt and indecision.

Don’t forget to wear your
toughest belt. Rejuvenate
your facial contours. Take
a short cut to glamour.
Go on, fake it. You can
carry it off.

You’ve got staying power.
You’re a show-stopper,
a real crowd-pleaser.
A natural.

Make me an entrance.
Beam me an after-dark
look. Thrill me.