Any Number of Women

Don’t think she’s an original,
       the only one of her kind: Her name

is legion. Walk down any street,
       you’ll see her, dragging her woes

like children, like packages,
       like the tail of that handknit scarf

she can’t wait to wrap herself in
       come winter. Beautiful, but a goddess

isn’t hard to restore these days,
       what with surgery and makeup tricks,

not to mention photoshop, if it’s only
       a picture you’re seeing. So there

she is, walking, stopping to chat
       with whoever comes along,

going on and on and on about
       her daughter. Using words

that violate the quiet
       of the day: devastated wrecked unhinged.

Her hands at the air like birds trapped
       in a room, seeking exit, seeking exit

Then sighing, and gathering her woes, and going on
       because what else is there to do.

Lynne Knight | Unknown Quantities of Desire
Mudlark Contents | Mudlark Chap No. 66 (2018)