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BREASTS

You know — just once I’d like to say,
"These are breasts.
Most females have them
in one form or another.
They are filled with mammary glands
whose function is to sustain an infant."
(Incredible experience it was.)
CAUTION!
It seems these handfuls of flesh
may induce temporary idiocy in men!
Breasts have been known to cause one
to stare hypnotically at a women’s chest
while trying to speak to her face
(which may as well be on the back of her head)
after which, he may walk away
not knowing what-the-hell he said
or what her response was. Oh yeah.
Beautiful breasts may even determine
the status of employment.
Big-Boobs/Big-Bucks as it were.
Yes, let me entertain you,
let me make you smile.
A man will glance at breasts before
he decides whether or not
to continue on up to the face.
Will it be worth the effort? Or not?
Perhaps breasts need names
for more formal introductions,
as if they were triamese triplets;
the woman and each breast,
together, yet separate entities.
You know what I mean?
For those women who may wear
the delicate, silver cross
that dangles just between
the mysteriously, entrancing junction
where the breasts meet;
(might even cause a man
of the clothe to peak)
can we have an Amen?
In the modern world we may coddle them
in colored cups with bows and lace,
buckles and straps, fiber-filled elastic,
to lift and separate,
cross your heart, not tell a lie,
(stick a nipple in your eye).
They may be sliced open
like melons on a May day
and packed with puffy, plastic pillows.
All the better to entice you with, my Dear.
A temporary effort to become "more" of a woman.
How sad; does it help I wonder?
I wish. Even so, I wish.
If we lived in a mud-thatch hut
with dark, dusty, dry feet,
with short, lacquer-free fingernails,
breasts would be as natural
as elbows or ears.
We would be respected for our
abilities (whatever they may be).
Those poor, backward savages.
How I envy them.
Might they not use a brassiere
to hold wooden beads, poison darts,
bony tools or arrow heads?
Perhaps worn around the waist
to fill with nuts and berries?
A scooper? A slingshot?
Or maybe to cover crouching knees
as they search
for roots beneath the soil.

      — Maryann Hazen