POEM: Not really about wheelbarrows

This poem is an *IA Writing Competition (creative work category) entry.

Not really about wheelbarrows

They always knew     was I so blind?
Whose memories are accurate     really true?
So much blame   mothering’s curse…
Those tiny smocked dresses    how ironic
I weep for their dead self    those photos destroyed
Wheelbarrows — their stoic reliability
Is it something I did   or didn’t I do?
Capitalism rejoices    a whole new market!
To carve up young bodies   now that they can…
They weep for lost years    I’m counting months

They weep for lost years    I’m counting months
Memories wander   in tangled mazes
Motherhood    like religion    laden with guilt
All those tinny stressed tresses    how iconic
She’s still alive to me    is this someone else?
Wheelbarrows sometimes enjoy being empty
In my dreams   I’m always   the problem
I always thought they hated Big Pharma
How can they reject    that beautiful body?
Of course   they’re the same    wonderful human

Of course   they’re the same    wonderful human
I’ve an imperfect body with lop-sided breasts
We weave and spin   never win never win
Our power-within    resisting the pressure
They’re refusing debate   Aren’t the young    meant to question?
The wheelbarrow’s my strength    and thus my weakness
Maybe they relish   the thought of the privilege
They query some boxes   climb into others
Are we now the conservatives   resisting the new?
Those lovely young bodies    on profit’s block
It’s bodies again    where did we go wrong?

It’s bodies again    where did we go wrong?
I’ve lopsided breasts    from radiotherapy
Sometimes women can win   by not playing
Shelving the deadwood    the young close their ears
Talk about boxes!
Wheelbarrows are always non-threatening
We too challenged the binary
Don’t we all love our Xs and Ys?
We also shouted   I am not my body!
But we actually didn’t want a new one…

We didn’t actually want a new one
I couldn’t imagine chopping them off
Gender wars   now take on new meaning
Showing obedience    the young shut their minds
Wheelbarrows are usually boring but safe
Can women accept    those desperate to be?
Our daughters had trucks    and our boys wore tutus
You can’t expunge woman and mother
Capital laughs   all the way to the bank
We all explore    our Yin and Yang
Our fight’s hard enough    Don’t divide forces!

Our fight’s hard enough     Don’t divide forces!
Patriarchy   rubs his hands with glee
Did we sow seeds   by preaching non-binary?
We weep for those    born into wrong bodies
We’ve taken so long    to get this far
Wheelbarrows do not answer the questions
Do they not realise    the power of language?
We’re not the enemy     we just want to talk
Of course I’ve lost her   can’t bear to lose them
Gender wars take on new meaning

Karen Throssell is an award-winning writer and poet who has had seven poetry collections published. Her poems have appeared in various journals and anthologies. She is the author of The Crime of not Knowing your Crime: Ric Throssell against ASIO.

* Full IA Writing Competition details HERE.