Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!

Used


The conspiracy's to make us thin.
Size threes are all the rage,
and skirts ballooning above
twinkling knees are every man-child's
preadolescent dream.
Tabla rasa. No slate's that clean--


We've earned the navels sunk in
grief when the last child emptied us
of their brief interior light.
Our muscles say
We have been used.


Have you ever tried silk sheets?
I did, persuaded by postnatal dread
and a Macy's clerk to bargain
for more zip.


We couldn't hang on, slipped to
the floor and by morning the quilts
had slid off, too. Enough of guilt--
It's hard work staying cool.

Written by Rita Dove

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Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge