Brassieres Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The puckered buttons of Mrs Arkwright's breasts
Pressed the silk of her Markie's modesty coddlers
The bra is her breast's vertebrae,
The saddles her twin peaks ride on.
Ms Selina's, like Nell Gwyn's fruit
Are luscious breasts, according to her beau
Who works in the ironmongery section of B & Q
He likes to squash them, like Antoine Corlioni,
Scooping ice creams
Into their pale cornettos
At night they loll, tongue in cheek,
Over chairbacks and bedheads
Yielding their owners scent to the sniffing air.