MINI PAUSES FOR THE BLESSED TRADE
This me you perceive, it is not I. My cover is woman’s second rite of passage, Postmenopausal insulation. The color of my skin has waned. A grey thatch roofs my housing. Pigment stops and rests here and there leaving camouflage tracks sealing in joy and pain. My soul is in perfect tack. This is but a molting of cosmetic satin replacing lost ovulation. To protect the youth of my gender, I and my sisters of an age, must withdraw from competition. We may mate, but we may not bear, lest we pose a... Sign in to see full entry.