The Corset

I wish that I had been a suffragette, chained
Myself to railings for the right to vote
And fight and drink and smoke
Uncorseted. And yet,
It is not my figure
But my life that
Is constricted
At the
Rigour of
Mother, Wife
Kept me straightlaced.
Those domestic ties are
Loosening now, as duty’s rigid
Hooks and eyes no longer meet and I
Can breathe again. But sloughing off this skin
Is bittersweet, for will I recognise the girl within?

Lucinda Kowol

If you have any thoughts on this poem,   Lucinda Kowol   would be pleased to hear them.