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Will there be Bourbons?
Kate Wise
We did the rounds.
Mary at the bookies fed me white chocolate-ique mice;
Wendy at the Church Hall over-sugared Nice
and under-diluted orange squash, sickly-bitter.
On the news, constant Maggie, as mum called her; you tutted.
She was muddled for me: the hair of Angela, the voice of Moira;
and in the town centre, that Saturday, we met her
or someone like her, laced ladylike and rosetted blue,
and not knowing How I Did Do,
I curtsied.
The pencils were leashed short, so hoisting me under the ribs
you help me rise to choose for you between rose and torch and bird.
But voting was not as fun as giving blood
and there were no Bourbons or juice to sweeten the loss.
Kate Wise lives in London, fitting poetry in around being a mum to two under-fours. She has been published by New Trad Journal, Angle, Prole and StepAway magazines. She was commended in the 2013 Cafe Writers and 2014 Manchester Cathedral Poetry Competitions, and placed third in the 2014 Ware Poets Competition. This poem appears in the Emma Press anthology Campaign in Poetry. For more information visit: http://theemmapress.com/
Well Versed is edited by Jody Porter – wveditor@gmail.com
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