Miss Representation


When she was seven
we played a game,
matching heads to bodies and legs,
a little girls face, strong arms
with anchor tattoos
footballers legs
and army boots.

And so she made the image match
stronger faster quicker,
hard to catch,
brighter braver better
than the best.
She became herself.

At seventeen they dropped the veil
of the beauty queen, eating only apples
to fall fast asleep.
When she woke I cried,
thinner weaker slower
something died inside.
Quiet dull compliant,
tethered to the tugboats pull.
She wanted the boys
to flock like gulls.

At twenty one she started to see
beyond the braille books
of how a female should look
in preparation for male approval,
an ill placed hand can break
the darkest of spells.

So now she stands ahead of the table,
pens take note when she speaks
a guide for the weak, all are equal.
The papers reported her success
with questions of tummy tucks
and real or fake breasts.
They missed the anchor tattoo.

© savvi 2023
Views: 1817
critique and comments welcome.
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Brilliant savvi, and fully understood. Good poetry here…


Hello savvi: You will have to forgive my lack of any real crit, I’m just coming back to reading and writing after a very long time and so any skills I might have possessed are severely diminished. However, I read through this a few times. Firstly, because I really enjoyed the images and the pace of it. Secondly, to make sure I hadn’t missed any of what was so enjoyable about it. I really enjoyed the second and fourth verses in particular, but the entire poem is well written and well paced. Much enjoyed.



Having read all the other ‘in the know’ comments I am feeling particularly thick, I really enjoyed the poem and the intriguing story but I am in two or maybe three minds about the meaning. I shall return to read again and maybe my brain will actually work. 🙂 Sue.

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