The Strong Ones

It was Za za gaga..
eyes drooling and

La-
de-
dah

and mothers holding babies
on sore arms
Like tired worn maidens
Not maidens anymore I guess.

Men watching,
or rather boys-
Hooting, cat-calling, yelping,
like cats without the "Meow,"
so they purr.

I think it's gruesome,
loathesome,
ugly-flavored, distasteful.
But I guess...

They think it's okay.
watching mothers grow into
Little wrinkled women,
exhausted to the bone,
whining like lost dogs in the rain.
Chewing on the hides of our skin.
Our flesh,
our strength, our life.

Although
we have more than anyone can take,
We are women,
We survive.