She
panty hose runs
shining slick with nail polish lacquer
hold together the teller, the teacher, the secretary, the nurse
the woman
the expectations placed
in little girls' hair
tightened like a corset
round their fragile bird bones
because fragile she is.
strong she's taught not.
two breasts, two eyes
to coat in thick clumps
of black mascara,
as two red lips bite back
words, thoughts, smarts,
she was told she didn't have.
math is a numbers game she just wouldn't get
nimble fingers made for working
silently.
her opinions are less
because of the curve of her hips
hips, which,
when life rests between
invites the possibility of a day
when she will not weep
when the baby born
is delivered in pink.
shrill newborn wails silenced
for lack
of a protruding appendage