A misheard Macbeth Act V: “What a sigh is there!”
What a Size!
She stood uncertain centre-stage
A tremulous tethered kid
In a jungle clearing tiger shoot
Shielding her eyes
Against the spotlight glare
Apologising for her timidity
“I’ve never spoken in public before”
Softly expressing women’s rage
At fear of rape and violence
Her quiet seething anger
Enhanced by gentle diffidence
She should have been issuing
Books of botany and butterflies
In a still water library in Bexhill-on-Sea
Not standing with hands on hips
With growing confidence and trenchant irony
Warming to her theme
Telling the indignities
Women encounter in cess-pit society
Not standing with hands on confident hips
In a modest red dress
And matching specs from Vision Express
Taking deep breaths.
A nudge in my ribs – my mate’s hiss,
“Great tits. Would you give her one?”
“My granddaughter’s older than her.”
“Yeah but look at ’em… Would you?”
I stripped her naked in my mind and grinned
“Go on. Yeah. Bloody hell yes. Not half.”
O Mary, full of grace, is it too late?
I cannot look long in the mirror these days.