The real thing
‘life’
maggie dramatically informed me
‘is NOT a dress rehearsal’
this she declaimed
in a mrs bucket-times-a-hundred
intonation
in impeccable RADA
without a trace
of her australian twang
on the last of my many visits
when we always dined
at her italian restaurant
round the corner
she had to pay a visit
to the doctor first
so i drove her there
so as not to have to overhear
the details of
her breast-cancer operation
i walked away from the surgery
at the restaurant
maggie declined her usual main dish
but reserved strength for the
zabaglione she
on earlier occasions
had sometimes spilt
after having got
‘deliciously drunk’
her funeral
was a sustained praise of life
in all its forms
a wonderful final curtain
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