Otherwise...

When Great-Grandmother Takes
Her False Teeth Out

When Great-Grandmother takes
her false teeth out
we fear her rubbery grin.

When she unsticks
those two fat lips of hers
- what a cavern!
we're scared of falling in.

Deep down, in her stomach,
are all the extra-strong mints she's sucked
and the overcooked cabbage
and the sprouts and the occasional roast duck
and the spoonfuls of syrup she took
to ease that tickly cough
and the oceans of sweet milky tea
that she can't seem to get enough of;
and those little nips of rum she's partial to
were a puddle, then a pond, now a lake
and she has her very own Everest - a mountain
of biscuit and cream and cake;
and there's the toast and marmalade and cornflakes
porridge and apples and plums
plus all the stuff we haven't thought of
swimming inside her tum.

So if we ever did fall down there
I don't see how we could escape
unless, by some unlikely luck,
she happened to regurgitate
the mints, the cabbage, the sprouts, the duck
the syrup, the tea, the rum
the biscuit, the cream, the cake, the toast
the marmalade, the cornflakes, the plums;
and the apples; and the porridge; plus
all the stuff we haven't thought of;
and, of course - last in, first out - US!


Copyright Bernard Young
From Brilliant by Bernard Young, Kingston Press, 2000