Doris Stickleback.
By P.B. Phillips
Doris Stickleback sat in the standard issue wingback
‘Ohh that's better, felt like I’ve been twice round the track’,
She just needed a moment, to get her wind back.
Today was much the same as yesterday, the monotony tore
and had done for months, and months, and months before.
Doris was down beaten, aged, and relentlessly poor.
No one wrote, came a’knocking, or called on the phone
Every meal the same, always eaten alone,
Doris, could afford either food or heat, so she chilled to the bone.
For company, the news droned on, on the unwatched tele,
For comfort, a red water bottle rested on her belly
On her legs a loved blanket, a little bit frayed and a little bit smelly.
In sheltered accommodation Doris spent her last nights and days,
Getting to the laundry-room left dear Doris, in a tizzy and sort of a daze.
'Sunset home' was a warren; a loveless, joyless, irregular maze.
When the council moved Doris in, they took away her cat
They wouldn’t allow such a comforting creature, in their scabby old flat
She protested most strongly, but the warden said 'Policy!' and that, was that.
Looking off into the distance, her only view was of the bins
She recited one of her favourite poems and sang one of her favourite hymns
Then contemplated all her past; wonderful, wonderful, sins.
In youth and middle age, she had lived her life
Working hard she’d been happy, not too much trouble, not too much strife
She'd slept with her boss and one joyous occasion, she slept with his wife.
Now time had damaged her lungs and bruised her heart
Whenever she stood up, she made an odd noise and had an involuntary fart
Doris decided, probably now, was a good time to depart.
She switched off all the electric appliances, pulled plugs from sockets
Wrapped up a little gift for her niece, then filled in the postal dockets
Finally, she fed the goldfish and emptied old tissues from cardy pockets.
Closing her tired eyes, for the very last time
She swallowed all the sleeping pills, with a slosh of Tesco's red wine.
Doris, let out a sigh and slumped back in her chair,
The antimacassar slipped and covered some of her face and some of her hair.
They came in a hearse and pulled around at the back.
Pocketed her few valuables, then put her body into a sack
And that was the end, of sweet, dear, Doris Stickleback.