Safe From Infection [r] Poem by Margaret Alice Second

I can't believe the idiots on the Dream Wedding Dress
programme; the presenter dressed in shabby clothes
without ‘chic' that could make ‘shabby chic' a winner -
trainers with stovepipe pants and a quiff created by a
sadist prison barber; also 3 members of my tribe with

zero emotional intelligence; nerdy-glasses guy with his
Big-Bang-Theory-winner hairstyle, plus 2 super-idiotic
girls - the first's head was flower-garlanded making her
look like an escaped Ophelia who-had-too-much-water,
as Hamlet declared; with far too much alcohol in it

all speaking as if Afrikaans was a nasal twang and their
dialogue prepared in a gr.1 class; bride-to-be hair roots
brown & top bright red, fidgeting all the time - choosing
boring dresses with imitation flair, no bodice to make up
for the lack of a chest - and this would land her the role

of a man in The Ride of the Valkyries, armholes cut deep,
no support to make up for her lack of Pamela Anderson's
signature treasures, thus she resembles a concentration
camp survivor - no Swarovski crystals - just cake-icing
layers of net and tulle enveloping her bleak presence

like the wide dresses my aunt crocheted for doll faces
with toilet-paper-roll bodies to adorn the WC - all the
while the 3 idiots talking her to death - I had to resort to
silent-movie style - why stay, I hear you ask - because
I'd hoped to see a beautiful dress that would make up

for the lack of finesse - yet it got worse; the last dress
was dipped in oil and splattered with ink, a dark brown
& black creation, perfect for a vampire's wife in a third-
rate movie - then my family tired of my stream of inane
comments & called me to watch Diners, Drives-Ins and

Dives to divert me from the arrogance and snobbery of
the "cream" of "Afrikanerdom" - which failed to impress
my kids in their expensive schools where an irreverent
attitude kept them safe from infection…