So muffled in fluffety bobbles, balaclavas, mittens
Umbumbling the streeteys yellow and whitey
She comes like a wombling thing, a non-woman
A never-never on her lips, painted all scarlet and wonky
Is Gertie, so laugh-she.

Is heat. Is smell. Is so unpeeled and possible sectioning
She is crinkled and crusty and hopeless with handbags
15 radios all on the table, none working, she handles the wiring
Does no-neighbours, no-telling and squinting
When knocks at the door.

Under the cretonne and  unfumbling curtains
Lives an old lizard carved out of bog oak
Jam sandwich, red letter from Energy
So cold bakeybeans.
Cats fighting for biscuits breed flies on the inside
Ringworm on leg-pieces, carboardy flitterings
Bitchbang on the ceiling for loudness
Sing God help the Queen.




About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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One Response to Gertie

  1. Bart Wolffe says:

    There was an old woman who lived in a shoe – this reminds me of someone equally archetypal who wears purple xx


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