love poem to a breast
by mendy knott

— for my best friend, after a mastectomy for breast cancer

It's not my breast, not yet
but figuratively, it's all of ours.
And though I rarely saw more than its contours
beneath a sweatshirt or a tee
I caught naked glimpses of its small
round muscular beauty.
I loved whatever was a part of you.
I love whatever is a part of you
is a part of me, is a part of every woman.

Breasts that were the bane of our existence in the 10th grade
became a blessing in our forties
as the larger breasts of friends began to fall
across their bellies,
ours remained exactly as they'd always been.
Well, maybe not exactly, but the distance
between chest and tummy proved too far to reach
although we did find creases
and a little sweat beneath
their drooping curves.
Actually, we loved them long before our forties
for their ability to fool the casual glance
as we swam topless in the lakes and rivers of our youth.

Oh brave breast, strong boyish chest
I never thought it would be one of us
who had so little to begin with.
Small unseamed pillow of flesh
now a mountain line of scar across your flattened chest
how I miss you, little brother-sister breast.
Of course you are so much more than this
and we all love you one breast less.
You haven't lost your sexiness
and your soul remains untouched.

Still I cherish the memory of your right breas
thow it rested shirtless in the sun
until all four of ours turned pink
and then how good the breeze across the tips
where water-cooled they rose and fell with every breath.
I know your lover¹s head lay there
to hear your heart beat, beat, beat
deep inside your brave strong chest.

I won¹t forget the wake we gave your breast
the last night it was part of you
when your best friends and lover
toasted its fine life with whiskey and a laying on of hands
cheering for all those who had stroked it
recalling how your girlish arm crossed over it
as you pledged allegiance to the flag
how sometimes holding our own breasts
grounds us in our womaness.

I wish that I had touched it now it's gone;
that there were no taboos between good friends
who might bless each other¹s bodies with a simple touch
or passing kiss
because in this world and in this time,
like a sweetheart who leaves early,
we might just miss our chance.
So belated as this thought may be
let me say
I loved your breast.

Mendy Knott is a poet and creativity coach who lives in the South Toe Valley. She hosts a monthly women¹s poetry event called Eve¹s Night Out at Blue Moon Bookstore in Spruce Pine, NC. Mendy can be contacted at Hillpoet Studio 828-675-5803 or hillpoet@yahoo.com