a Pelican on my Chesterfield


There is a pelican sat, eating

on my Chesterfield, a plump bird

with food in her mouth/beak

eek – it’s me, stuffed like the sofa.


If I sat on my exercise bike, my view

would be of bold, confident women

soft and rounded but not, bearing

great bellies and bums. 


They would walk with long strides

and get where they’re going in a flash

like I used to when I were a lass

a woman, a young mother.


My destination would be a future

that was wrapped around my past

the figure I was then would sail this ship

in style, with panache …


float a fabulous wardrobe of smart

sharp trousers, and suits and dresses

outlining a sharper chin and legs riding

up and up . How late am I?

The End

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