SCREENING
my breasts removed
and cervix too
and burnt all three
an early cremation
of a fraction of me
no eulogy
and every year on
universe anger day
I get a text -
come for screening
(for the me that is ash)
and the tut tut text next
MISSING
last seen in 2016
a couple of breasts
heading to their waterloo
a pair of embryonic sweat glands
a first bra and she blushes
Boudica’s bosom
black cabs cleaving sea of traffic
as they paraded across Marylebone Lane
two hundred years each
with child
a loop made of milk and eyes
lying down taking the surgeon’s call
pinching not weeping while he whispered
off with her breasts
stumps
smile
say thank you
only her waist left
and in her dressing and her undressing
and in her bathing and her loving
missed
LOVE IV
you are my liege, you are my knight
galloping on the Southbank
little boy lost I hold you tight
your hard breath, your hard hold
both I like
you are my liege, you are my knight
May’s lilac and the summer sun
luminous across your bed
little boy lost I hold you tight
stealing away quiet night
a slow burial of me
you are my liege, you are my knight
waiting, but you never come
sunlight fading into the muck
little boy lost I hold you tight
you are my liege, you are my knight
dark quiet the garden is dead
I wait, I want –
little boy lost I hold you tight
you are my liege, my knight
little boy found I hold you tight
you are my liege, my starry knight
BOLD LOVER
you say you love me
catch
it's unrequitable
poem says no
what a swizz
get off that urn
and court me proper
play Donne not Keats
keep your unrequitables
woman (not muse) here wanting
Vanessa Wheeler is a London-based poet. She lives and works in London and is currently unpublished.
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