i.m. Lorna Sage, 1943-2001

Spectator, The, Jan 19, 2002 by Thwaite, Anthony

Out of that mess of relatives you came,

A breathless blonde, a giggling saboteur,

Silly, subversive, resolute and clever.

You mocked, and flirted, and you had no shame.

I felt uneasy with you, always did:

You puffed out put-downs with your nicotine.

You made me think of what I might have been.

And then you made this last intricate bid

A book on breaking-out, on making-out,

Through all those years of stress and mess, 'bad blood'

Fed through your veins, until you gasped and stood

Triumphant there, there on the last redoubt. Anthony Thwaite