Friday, 16th April, 2010 Bit Parts

She is more, she hopes
than the sum of her parts
 but she lacks much faith
in that wholeness.

As a child she was taught -
and was quick to learn -
 the importance of
of covering the flaw.

It's a useful strategy,
this 'normalisation'
of that which must
otherwise sicken

though a life-time
churns to sick despair
as her assets dwindle
with the years.

She was not quite taught
but she grew well aware
of the parts that loomed
in importance:

breasts should be full
but pert and firm,
high on the wall
of the chest;

legs, tapered,
hairless, long,
golden or sheathed
in sheer nylon;

eyes, child-like,
adoring, wide,
smouldering
or wild.

Necks, swan-like,
skin, scented;
hair, thick
and glossy;

bottoms, small,
tight and round;
lips, pouting,
moist;

hands, dainty;
bellies, flat;
wrists and ankles,
slender;

noses, freckled,
sun-kissed, cute,
snub or
just upturned.

But tongues are wagging,
probing, sharp,
shrewish and
often unbridled;

wombs, which are
too apt to fall,
have little
lasting use.

Vaginas have more merit
but must be snug;
and labia, neat
and unobtrusive;

ovaries are neither
sexy nor smart,
and the clitoris
just an excuse.

So, though she tries
to integrate herself,
experience mitigates
against it;

life teaches her
to conceal those flaws
in the absence of which
she is unreal.

Her one good eye
may see well enough
the irony of her
predicament;

but her blind eye sees
what she might have been
and turns its dull gaze
to the wall.