In gray flowered gowns
that open in the front
we sit flipping pages
in outdated magazines
We are body language
and competing heart beats
weary warriors
with amputated words
Our thought plugs have been pulled
our minds drained/emptied
where statistics once
marched
in battle fatigues
The elephant in the room
is armed with breastplates
Each time a woman’s name is called
we hurl our collective breath
© 2011 Barbara Moore
In the Company of
Women:
An Anthology of Wit
& Wisdom Sass & Class
Editing by Apryl Skies & Alicia Winski