Poetry for the soul

The Friday poem: ‘My Iron Cervix’, by Claudia Jardine

A pantoum by Wellington writer Claudia Jardine.

 

My Iron Cervix

 

Whilst muttering all for my sexual prime,
I lay on the bed and tried not to faint.
The doctor was having a hard time
so the nurse held my arm, a pre-emptive restraint.

I lay on the bed and tried not to faint,
fought the urge to give doctor a kick.
Nurse held my arm, a pre-emptive restraint,
frowned as my pulse and consciousness slipped.

Fought the urge to give doctor a kick,
but the fucking bit of plastic wouldn’t go in!
Frowning, as my pulse and consciousness slipped,
she stopped, and said your cervix is iron.

The fucking bit of plastic wouldn’t go in,
and the doctor was having a hard time
so she stopped, and said your cervix is iron.
All the more for my sexual prime!


The Spinoff Review of Books is brought to you by Unity Books.

 

Related:


The Spinoff is made possible by the generous support of the following organisations.
Please help us by supporting them.