A Sticky End



Saturday morning
at the Old Swan Regent ,
with an Everlasting
Toffee bar, four Black Jacks
and a Gobstopper.

Barbara and I would
wage a silent battle
for the armrest,
harbouring secret
envies for each otherís lives;
me, her frilly frocks,
she, my big, protective sisters.

As Roy Rogers flashed his holster
and Flash Gordon saved the world,
we'd stage our quiet war
fourth row back in the flea pit
with a thousand other
Minors of the ABC.

And when the
Everlasting Toffee met its sticky end,
my pocket emptied
of its stash,
Barbara would reach
behind her back
to find a hidden
Lucky Bag,
and as she opened it,
a smile of triumph
flashed across her face.

In the flickering light, I saw,
that she had won the war.


By Kath Dodd