When they were children with nipples
Budding over the lonely muscle that would eventually betray them
In love and in death
They read magazines advertising creams
that would make them as beautiful as movie stars
Movie stars we admired
Their breasts full and brimming worlds full of oceans and rivers.
These things came in Plain Brown Wrappers
Boxes stamped with words "bursting test,"
And, even though they filled balloons with water
And threw them at one another at birthday parties
They weren’t sure whether it meant
the maximum load to be borne by the bags and boxes themselves or...
The milky bosoms with fine blue lines, like our grandmother’s Rocking china, that would make someone love them
They wondered how to mix powdered milk when they had no water.
They want to received such a box out in the desert where Oxfam tissues are used to make tea.
So that their bones would grow crooked, drifted and their chest booted.
They dont know there is a debt to be paid between standing tall and sagging low
It will be painfully full and will stand in the blood and milk-stained dust of other girls who couldn’t wait to grow
I really hope they can bear without
bursting before they walk home across enchanted hearts.
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