Flabby Arms Fly

poetry

A Greek Goddess is now an ancient artifact.

You can’t truly walk a life in vain worried about the possibility of veins, can you?

I find it novel, a woman with indentation, crease and curve looking like a life having lived.

A matriarch of ten grows a garden – her hands stiff, scarred and arthritic – makes some heaven out of soup bowls -and keeps a happy family fat.

Real women who fight their days without fear

wave their flabby arms like wings

never missing the chance to crease a laugh line.

That’s an admiration, not an artifact.

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