what shall we do with these four young women
gorging on their own gorgeousness at seventeen
virgin goddesses, or not --
they wield their power
over middle-age
matrons, working mothers, menopausal dames
we are in awe of their peach
soft skin, golden lustre
we may think to outsmart them
with our age and experience
but their shark-bite words can wound
yet we are beautiful in ways
unknown to young straight rivers
sinous and curved, our silted beds
and wizened beauty
have made us wise
in ways they may only dream of being
we hold our power in our eyes
perhaps less glossy on the surface
but wicked with metaphor
we join hands
and watch them walking
longlegged, gorgeous horse women,
Amazonian
and full of promise
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