Granny’s Night In
The family was flummoxed by her eagerness
to babysit, skip their big bash;
an evening of doodle-doing cocks
crowing comparisons of Ks paid for holidays,
squawking top-this tips on house prices,
advice on how to add value;
preening peacocks vying to buy the priciest wine,
fine-feathered gaggles checking out each others’
conspicuous consumption, how high they’re flying.
Even the baby’s restless cry is easier on her ear.
If you have any
thoughts on this poem, Ann Gibson would
be pleased to hear them.