who went to all of the horror films.
Screened in cinemas deemed disreputable
by our concerned, conservative parents,
they were forbidden to the rest of us.
He could recount them scene by scene
on request, enthrallingly, and would do so
to his classmates ambling homewards agog
as he recited macabre dialogue
and evoked the suspense and chilling music.
Though I never did get to see for myself
the monsters played by Boris Karloff,
and how in cobwebby coffins werewolves
revived at midnight sprouting face hair
and fangs intent on spreading their curse,
and vampires always shuddered and shrank
to dust when impaled on a silver stake
hurled by the hero, causing the rescued girl
to faint in his arms before waking eagerly
to kiss him passionately while credits rolled,
I remember such scenes vividly, thanks to
my young friend's skills. Years later I read
how Australians in Changi in World War II,
created cinema sessions by making do
with one of their number "telling the movies".
Some readers doubted that cure for that deprivation,
but I knew well just how expertly it could be done.
Bronze trophy winner
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