Women travel through talk

Can only go as far as their minds will take them

Change at the bottom of their purses travel more

Swimming around

Waiting to be dug up at the checkout while

Wispy hairs frame effete faces

Lips pursed, plastered with embarrassment and exhaustion.

Their bodies do the work.

How many ways can a face contort?

Leaned over dishwater mixed with tired tears

Bubbles drowning, happy to go down the drain and escape the monotony

Most days she has no idea what day it is,

or if she does, it is only because of an appointment for the baby

Something needs to be checked, or repaired or maintained.

They get ice cream after.

Go the mall where she puts dresses up to the youngest

To check the fit

Stretching the material, turning over the price tag

What can go without being paid?

So she can have the dress-

Have a dress.

In the mother’s heart, there are many rooms.

The heart of a woman-

love and growing.

Growing, and broken, and whole.

 

This is Life revised. The poem started from sifting a bra ad. I am a little tanked. I am in Atlanta drinking with friends, so this assignment (#9) made the most sense since I usually write drunk and edit sober, like they say Hemingway said.