Wristwatches on her ankles, two each leg
Metal-stretch bands worn bracelet and high-arm
Sixty-plus, shift-dress flapping from bone-peg.
We sit, three high-school girls minding cool charm,
“You are so beautiful,” she says to us,
“Wish I had had a daughter just like you.”
My two friends watch her: stained dress, hair a muss
Rush off to class, struck-dumb: old face, hands true
I sit hooked by praise, and her grip on time
Those small hearts ticking “always yours” appeal …
Thirty years later, childless, out of time
I watch males look past me to seek new deal
All men’s watches hugging her legs and arms
Like motorised muscles—all date, warm palms