Lily with her speckled throat
and tongue made for kissing
flashed a ring her auntie stole
from Woolworths on Saturday.
She swore the stone was as real
as her glamour. She wore
a store-bought dress printed
with showy flowers, a stunner
I had to pretend to admire
and try not to gag on my envy.
I strolled through the park
at her side in my mother-
stitched button-through cotton,
Lily all fashion-plate glam, hips
swinging, an eye-catcher named,
she said, for the perfumed flower
in the formal beds.
A scarlet
beetle crept over my wrist,
parting the hairs in search
of something lush to munch;
a gem, polished and gleaming.
I slipped it into the bold,
open mouth of a Stargazer Lily.