The Helping Hand Poem by M.L. Emmett

She wears the uniform of the well-heeled
helping classes
no-knees long, navy pure wool
Country Road skirt
with 21st pearls, jewelled clasp to the side
a nonchalant display of inheritance

starched white shirt
with material frilled collar
for that touch
of the feminine
nicely matching the tone set
by the palest pink cashmere cardigan

She has been known to sport
a casually tied Dior silk scarf
or even a shoulder flung pashmina
But today its more formal
appearances are everything.

She checks the smooth blonde bob
that has been fixed
with near-adhesive hair spray
The head may be turned
but the bob barely budges

She polishes her shoes -
flat navy leather Diana Ferraros
worn for comfort and elegant style
on her silk- stockined calves
She's ready for the tour.

*

She shows the family around
the up-to the minute hospital facilities
'should the need arise'
the sheltered and assisted places
and then we come
to the flatlets.

Just the right downsize
for the parent who needs rehousing
That old house riddled with white ants
and in such a good area
on such a large block
even a tennis court!
Too big for Mummy to manage
But quite big enough
for four townhouses

Regulation chintz
in all directions
Cross-stitched cushions
made in the occupational craft
therapy unit 'so good for their minds'

Religiosity understated
an Icon and cross free zone
very echumenical
and beige
But you can still sense
bible kindness

Every wall in the 'ladies' wing'
painted dusky pink
with a paper frieze
of faded pink roses
and background greenery

Foyers and reception areas
are festooned with floral tributes
'From the funeral homes' she confides
but neatly rebadged in the crystal vases
Their heady scent and freshness
almost hides the rest
but not quite.

There is that vegemitely smell
of dessication and sagging skin
Those watery vegetable smells
from school dinners
of cabbage, soggy pumpkin
and silver beet.

Mingling with the lemony sharp tang
of hospital strength disinfectant
and that special,
air freshner freshness
and that lingering inevitable smell
of stale urine.

The steady whirr of polishers
a symphony of vacuum nozzles
sucking the detritus of the decay
the pulsing heaviness
of air conditioned comfort.

Double glazed
'so as not to disturb their sleep'
She points to the sealed windows
Perhaps a foil for suicide jumpers
from the upper storey
certainly reduces all hope

of outside stimulation
from seasonal changes
and the rush
of fresh air
across a pale cheek.

*

The smile with the price list
was as close to warmth
as the chill queen could come
in her professional role
presenting them

'Naturally, it is as you'd expect'
she smiles again
'A much better class of people
end their days with us.'