By Kate Meyer-Currey
when you got with me I had no idea
it could be a life-sentence you’re an
armed robber holding me under false
imprisonment in my own body until
I get your bally off and see if you’re
just a mosquito, a runner fake cancer-
gangster or a real big OC man tumour
ready to take me down you’ve gone OT
in my left boob conch among its lumps
cuckooing my cells feeding my veins
like county lines waiting for reload so
I’ve handed myself in to the hospital to
get your mammogram mugshot and
radiography recognition so you stand
out in a microscope line up plus the
biopsy of tissue you left at the crime
scene every contact leaves a trace so
either it’s a case of mistaken identity
wrong boob wrong time or you’re bang
at it either way you’re the snake that
grassed me up so when they send a
shank team in to get you out I hold you
to account for wrecking my gaff right
now you’re bailed to my address and
I’m waiting on recall to hospital while
you cook up more dodgy cells to make
me your cancer crack whore roll on
sentence date hope you go away for
good for possession with intent to supply
and I get out on tag with breast care
nurse probation to scare me straight
got a restraining order so stay in your
dead pool breach my chest wall again
and it won’t be double jeopardy no
you’ll be dead man walking because
I’m living my Shawshank Redemption
fantasy, baby no word of a lie.
Kate Meyer-Currey lives in Devon, UK. A varied career in frontline settings has fueled her interest in gritty urbanism, contrasted with a rural upbringing, often with a slipstream twist. Since September 2020 she has had over a hundred poems published in print and online journals, both in the UK and internationally.
Her chapbooks County Lines (Dancing Girl) and Cuckoo’s Nest (Contraband) are due out in early 2022.