She married
and abandoned her body
to a formless shift
Her breasts still appeared,
though,
when the wind made her
arch her neck
and catch its thrust
with her mouth,
the fumpy pink cotton
pressing against
her nipples’ rise
And she thought that
she now was more sensuous
than she was when she was in denim,
with children tugging
at her dancing hem,
with light straining to find
the shadow of her hips,
with imaginings to keep her fulfilled,
with men to play the dunce
to her smile
(1980)