Even Now

1

Where are you going? Why? Hollow questions, these,

and perfectly suited to fathers and judges!

We danced around their questions, spinning, swish, swish,

we, perfectly vacuous, we, ornate dolls.

“Just don’t get us pregnant!” the girlies screeched

and the menfolk held back meekly

between a squeal and a bounce, and a pounce.

Oh no, nowhere on earth

did we feel more at home

than under the maddest of skirts.

But God sent down a surly aviator

to sprinkle his ingredients among us:

virtues, wrinkles, solitude.

The nights grew older and longer.

And then, without a sign or word, a grumbling verdict

was passed. That’s right! Justice could be done!

How else can we explain that we

unnecessarily, improbably, unjustly,

were dancing slowly by the sea?

Now often, when the evening falls like snow,

a thing or creature moves towards us. And it

reaches us and in our pity-hollowed trunks,

it bears its fatal young.