Our bodies no longer carry children
They carry disease
dysfunction
No second glances on the street
nor
second looks in the doctor's office
We learn to become
our own admirers
our own detectives
The young ones are praised
for beauty
for bearing children
We are reviled
for wrinkles
for bearing scars
and pain
Our time has come and gone
It is unseemly to demand more
Expected to deteriorate
gracefully
and if we must die-
to die quietly,
smiling.
