Wild Women of a Certain Age - by
My sisters, the time has come
/ to let your hair grow long and wild and grey,
/ to cast away the heated rollers…
My sisters, the time has come
/ to let your hair grow long and wild and grey,
/ to cast away the heated rollers…
My neck, where love ran
/ Just under the skin
/ Is now an old rickety ladder to the brain.
/
/ My breasts, a full delight…
I dock the dead, the damaged and diseased;
/ the gnarled and dry come tumbling from the heights
/ until I stand knee-deep…
Each of us is old
/ and our brave silks begin
/ to fall from us. Draw close
/ in the chapterhouse of skin.
/
/ How shall we…
I join the usual coven in the pool, ladies past
a certain age, warming up their tonsils.