Penelope Layland
Insatiable
Phantom exits page right with horse and hound, leaving only this page of smudgy sells for sea monkeys, money boxes with combination locks, a promise of proficiency on the mouth organ in 30 minutes. Never did send for the x-ray spectacles, sachets of stamps from a guaranteed 20 nations. No habit of purchase, but insatiable belief, even now and nevertheless, in the phantom potential of a tiny spy camera, its imagined spools of gossamer film, girl genius solves at last the baffling crime, the x-ray reveal of a best friend’s parasitic twin notched shrivelled in her liver, the amazed face of my mother at this sudden musicality, insatiable even for the cellophane packs of small stamps, mainly maroon, bearing palm trees, public buildings with shaded colonnades, and king-like turbaned heads.