I can’t believe I spent so long on this…
I hope you won’t think
that I’m fishing for pity, or some reassurance;
I could not bear the idea of that,
but a burning issue is seeking attention,
and it’s worth a mention,
so this is the thing, you see;
I just no longer like being me.
I hate to confess the breadth of my reasons,
and I can’t blame the troubles that came my way,
or the way my life has generally been,
so nobody else is to blame;
it’s only because I am me.
I will put it succinctly:
I no longer
So I will be brave
and straight to the point,
as I stand here before you…
stripped to the hips.
Does my bum look pretty,
is it pert and flirty?
Do you think it is priceless
or simply blown out and flabby and big?
It wasn’t a bad poem to start with, but I had to make all sorts of changes to force it into the shape of a woman’s body. Sometimes, wrecking a poem can be time-consuming and gruelling work…
©Jane Paterson Basil