Thursday, June 28, 2012

Doublemint

For Holly Whiteley.

Dusty paper; the pinked sides
silver,
a soft serrated knife-edge.
Torn in half; a rubber rip,
shared,
someone pocketing the green sleeve.
A wave of mint -
a talcum coating on the tyre-tread stick,
sticking to my tongue all
grinning with the taste.
She places the cork lid back on the glass jar;
back on the pantry shelf.
We chew.
Our eyes speak to each other in sister-lingo:
we're not allowed gum.

We'd better not tell Mum.

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