She worked as a kitchen hand
in a childcare centre in Mount Druitt,
preparing carrot sticks and celery
& plates of vegemite on toast for kids
who hugged her around the knees.
Her husband collapsed in a heap suddenly
one June evening clutching a can of Coke.
She would sit on the lounge at night in the
dark and cradle their wedding photo
& listen to his Elvis CDs and weep.
With the proceeds of his estate she
would take a cigarette in one hand,
a beer in another, and play the pokies
at the local RSL, each push of the button
her secret wish he’d come alive if she won.
When she died no one cared - all her friends
and family had long moved on. Her body,
certainly was a curiosity - a dwarfish Turner-
Syndrome frame with enormous breasts - and
as her body had been donated to Science,
they poked and prodded and x-rayed and
took tissue samples trying to determine
why, despite her abusive childhood, WHY
she laughed so much and lived so long.