Today I lost my allure;
it left me on 42 avenue
where I stood
my two breasts i surmised
had sucummbed another inch to gravity
and this had been noticed by the hard hats
who measure such things;
that the lines that lined my face advanced another millimeter
now visible for them to see
where such sensiitivity exists
to every furrow and crease
in us women;
that we can hear stage-whispers
from sidewalk auidences of young men that
say "who is the old broad"
as we wrangle our younger self- image
and bring it to the fore and silently
self-whisper "who are they talking about":
but you know its you and you have
left the realm of hot and young
and merged into the realm of somebody's mother.
But I will not remain in that frozen world.
I will mount the fight to retard the advancing lines
and reassert that I still have a young girl beaming
inside.
But they demur and I am exiled from the young enclave
to that of moms and hotness retired.
I grieve.