Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

Win Win : yet to be invented
so I thought it a good deal,
one that would work for both parties.
I needed the second cook on the weekends
and someone also able to fill in … with little or no notice.
He was a part-time student – a retraining chef
seeking other artistic outlet as a designer –
needing a couple of fixed days
and some casual hours for discretionary spending.
“ Yes,” and “ yes ” –
he could do both
would be happy, willing seeking to work extra.

Yes and yes.
He would do me.
The weekends had to be filled
and as sure as people got sick
had a crisis or something else 
and needed time off
I needed an extra worker.
Good!
Okay, the pay is,
“ *&^*&,
what!
Do you think I’d give up my weekends
an inconvenience myself during the week
for that,
I wouldn’t have come in for an interview,
if I knew that’s what you’re offering.”

Contra to the fashion wave
she didn’t have to counterfeit her hair :
it was naturally red –
had been from birth although,
she did dye it green during the punk era.
Still,
it grew out, and so did she.
A solid education,
good career
and happy marriage – to a tow haired husband
and two gorgeous gingered children.

Perfect,
until
biopsy and carcinoma –
young, very young – late 20’s.
The surgeon was sure, they had it,
caught in time
everything should be okay.

Where does goodness go when cells taunt?
Being obedient and compliant, then
turning rogue,
conspiring and betraying themselves.
Unfair, very unfair said friends,
No she said, said she felt lucky –
lucky for the extra seven years

In the 1960’s, The Sisters of St Joseph wore
full-length dark brown habits,
a veil and face carapace,
a cord and rosary beads at the waist.
A heavy crucifix hung from their neck.
The garments must’ve been as hot as hell
and were most unflattering to size and morphology
making the wearer look twice as big
and homogenously squat –
they mostly all looked the same.

Perhaps it suited the ethos of the time
Catholicism a yoke to be endured
not a philosophy to be enjoyed
although there was some humour sometimes.

My mother had a friend who told her about convent life
the austerity, the rituals and the prayers
and teaching –
Catholic education and Catholic faith to Catholic kids.
One day she was venting her frustrations
to a class of six-year-olds
when
a little boy raised his hand
startling her to stop and ask
“yes Michael
– that’s a lovely dress you’re wearing Sister.”