Yesterday I was walking along the Taff River Embankment in Cardiff when these delights of nature flew by. As you may know I enjoy writing about flowers, but my subject matter does also extend to fruit, meat, and animals. Which were these? I hardly know. But as the arguments for individual rights to earn a living flew in with the recent Page Three malarkey, these flew out. Over and above all other considerations, Page Three objectifies women’s bodies. It really isn’t that difficult a concept to grasp. Anyway, here’s a poem I wrote about the paper I saw yesterday, as well as a photo of it. Irony alert ahead! I hope you enjoy.
Yesterday when out walking
I saw a pair of tits.
This is not a double entendre.
Yes, whilst out walking yesterday
a couple of tits flew by.
Not the blue or bearded kind
but the pink and perkily nippled.
Two tits flitting
about near the river.
Two snapped paps
flapping wings
in the wind.
They landed and I took a photo
of the photo. I wondered,
would they sing?
But the tits of course
were voiceless, the girl who
owned them nameless, the body
they belonged to headless
thanks to a papery crease.
Not that that mattered, of course.
Despite their lack of identity
the tits seemed happy, excited.
Their look was up-for-it
and very, very playful.
But soon they flew up from the grass
and continued on their journey,
wild and strong and free,
so glad they weren’t wrapping
fish and chips, or some other
menial task.
Find out more about Mab Jones here:
www.mabjones.com
