Hysteria
say you’re on stage or in Tesco buying tinned fish for the dog or it’s
a dream in which you’re arguing with your mother
and your womb starts moving about your body like it’s got a mind of
its own
the Ancient Greeks called it wandering but a better word might be
prowling
the cure was to put good smells under a woman & genitals and bad
smells under her nose to drive the womb back to its proper place
so you open the tin and inhale sardines in tomato sauce whilst
squatting over the mangoes but your insides are in a deadlock
you are a tall square-rigged ship and the fear is a monster squid with
its suckers round the beams of your belly
I’m so sorry about this you tell the audience ruffling your papers I
appear to have lost my place
as the kraken pulls you under you realise you’re not even a real ship
– just a painting of one on fraying parchment
why can’t you just accept me for who I am you scream at your
mother who is smoking a packet of crayons
you’re not even an original – the audience are heckling you – the
critics studied your brushwork and found it to be fake
when the house lights come up you’re holding the open sardine can
like an Oscar and your mother says you’ve a stain on your knickers
Genevieve Carver is the author of A Beautiful Way to be Crazy (Verve Poetry Press), and Landsick (Broken Sleep Books). Her poetry has appeared in journals including The White Review, Magma and Poetry News. She was the 2022 winner of The Moth Nature Writing Prize.