I see you, “fat” girl. You weren’t fat. You weren’t ugly. Your life wasn’t over. It was just beginning. Here you are, dancing on your 21st birthday with your sister. Look at you, in your blue ballgown with your pretty feet and your happy smile. This photo embarrassed you because you thought your arms were “plump”. People were already telling you to lose weight. Why? Look at you. There was nothing wrong with you. You were gorgeous. And you’ll never be 21 again.

Pegs: A Study of Domestic Insurgency.



The humble peg leads a perilous existence,

always watching for the chance of escape.


Cornered hems of a teatowel clamped

swashbucklingly between its teeth,

it leads the charge,

as a superhero-in-training slays stuffed toys.




Jaws overstretched

(like an anaconda swallowing a goat)

around a quilted, 100% rayon, dressing gown

on a clothes horse stabled near the radiator,

The tension will be broken by a warcry:


 as the peg flings itself, murderously springloaded,

at the eyes of innocent passersby

carrying their cuppa back to the comfy chair to catch up

on Fair City.




Plastic shards

Seen in their final repose,

spiking the squelch of

Digested dog’s dinner,

waiting in the weeds beneath the washing line,

Bear testament to puppy boredom.


Freedom has its price.