I grasped gooey innocence
in my hands last night,
holding it up to the gathered crowd
like a proud fisherman.
Blushing from the effort
of controlling my catch
I swiftly cleaned and placed it
on the swells of the ocean.
Trabecular going porous.
Inches lost, personality shrunken,
importance dissolving with her bones.
I cannot abide this future:
losing a voice I’ve only just found
in the grayness of my hair,
the deflation of my breasts,
senescent particles of relevance drifting away
when I am no longer mother, lover,