This poem is taken from PN Review 269, Volume 49 Number 3, January - February 2023.
Three Poems
First Bra
On the third morning,
nurses drew blue curtains round my bed.
Time to go home. My leaving gift,
a white cotton bra –
unavailable in my size, but Babygro-soft,
no wires, lace or frills.
Marion filled the left cup
with teddy-bear stuffing to make a breast
the same shape as its twin,
then Joanna slipped straps over my shoulders
and fastened me up at the front –
five fiddly hooks into five tiny eyes.
Only, the pretend breast
was too big, too firm and I cried.
They found a box of tissues,
...
On the third morning,
nurses drew blue curtains round my bed.
Time to go home. My leaving gift,
a white cotton bra –
unavailable in my size, but Babygro-soft,
no wires, lace or frills.
Marion filled the left cup
with teddy-bear stuffing to make a breast
the same shape as its twin,
then Joanna slipped straps over my shoulders
and fastened me up at the front –
five fiddly hooks into five tiny eyes.
Only, the pretend breast
was too big, too firm and I cried.
They found a box of tissues,
...
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