A thankless task
never to be seen in the light of day
strapped to the Sisyphean effort
of shouldering boulders
Only function is required
— the pink flower appliqué small
and delicate as a teenage girl’s
earlobe notwithstanding —
The Herculean Labor of the unmentionable
standing against gravity, against time
supporting, suppressing, expressing
rounded, uplifted, banded and wired
Shaping my body, my view of the world
— my bra.
(Author’s Note: Best read twice!)
The winter’s first snow,
light enough to flick away with a broom,
with a few extra swipes at the steps.
The next snow, or possibly the next, takes a shovel
and a little more effort,
more muscle and some sweat.
Building up strength and endurance
with each storm able to lift more weight
until the blizzard dumps five feet on the drive,
I, fit as a fiddle, strong as an ox,
call my friend Greenie. He has a truck
with a plow.
The baby arrives, small enough
to be carried in the crook of one arm,
grows, and grows, and grows,
demanding two arms,
two arms and a hip, his own two feet,
his own car. Maybe a truck –
with a plow.
January 1, 2013
buffaloed 