CAULIFLOWER BRAIN

CAULIFLOWER BRAIN

My brain is like a cauliflower,

round, white and full of bumps.

It sprouts all kinds of growths

that cause you much offence.

There's aphids in its branchlets,

there's mildew it its stems.

Its yellow round its flowerets,

its smell is rank and strong.

Maybe I should sieve it

and serve it up as soup?

Bland and white and milky

to be seasoned as you need.

Maybe I should chuck it

on the compost heap

to rot with slugs and beetles

and feed your garden green.

The trouble is its my brain.

The only one I've got.

I like its plantlike strength,

it is myself – it's me!

My body's for your pleasure.

I dress myself to please.

I'm mostly at your service

but I'll never be a rose.

My brain is not a melon

and neither is it nuts.

It is my foodful thought

and what I am it grows.

So like it or lump it

I am neither food or trash.

I cannot change the season

I cannot change my head.

So here I am my lover,

A woman with a brain.

If I am not your taste dear,

you'll have to shop again.

Copyright Ruth Hartley