Whilst Winter blue skies

improvise

& experiment

with abstract mime

I thought of Hilda

with her wonky eyes

her prosthetic chin

her resurrected grin.





Her distinct body odour

aye - it's definitely over

there was asbestos in her loft

there were cobwebs in her shed

yes - the curate tried to warn her

about the shadow of madness

but oh my Hilda I killed 'er

& now she's dead dead dead

x

...