Communing With My Boobs

i remember years ago, when you were a lot smaller,
that i didn't wear a bra and people would say that i should
cuz you would be saggy some day
and i would say that then i would roll 'em and pin 'em into place
but only for formal state occasions.
i was a lot younger then.

and i remember when you helped announce
the wee zygote that came to share our space -
you were sore and tender and grouchy
for days and i cupped you with/in wonder,
knowing, like any wysewoman,
that we would share our fecund glory
while you grew over the months,
a metamorphosis of voluptuousness.

when i held my daughter in my arms
watching her rosebud lips tugging at you,
there was an exaltation like no other
running through me like lightning strikes.-
i knew what it was to nourish with love,
a conduit of sharing.

many times i've thanked you for that
while we’ve luxuriated in my own caresses,
the tender touchings between friends
that exist in moments of self-amusement.

and, speaking of caresses,
bless you for responding with the depths of passion
to the touches of those who loved me.
i did not fail to notice
that you never responded to the will
of those you did not like or trust,
helping me discern the fine balance
between making love and just fucking.

do you remember the one who just loved big breasts,.
fondling you with amazement and admiration
when he first weighed you in his hands?
you were beside yourselves that night,
covered in the glory of being recognized
and cherished for the wonders that you are.

we've had some fun times together, you and I,
but it's been a while since we've been perky
and, like me, you've been more content to just hang about
and let things slide.

this year i figgered that a refurbishing was overdue
and, taking stock of the order of reconstruction,
decided that a return to your place of pride
was a good beginning and so we started.
and stopped.

there's a secret hiding in you.
you didn't know or you would have told me
so we ended up yesterday looking at the galaxy
of your black and white imprint on x-ray film
while two tiny, tiny stars preparing to supernova
were pointed out - surprise, eh?

and i thought, well now - what do we have here?
a cosmic reminder to take nothing for granted,
a benign messenger with no axe to grind?
or that ancient enemy that calls on women
to bring themselves forth, challenged to do battle?

i find myself standing on the precipice of war,
sensitive to the negotiations around us -
praying for peace and waiting,
while arming to take on the interloper
if the hue and cry of danger is raised.

it's been forty years,
through maidenhood, motherhood
and now into the age of croning,
that we've been boon companions -
i'm not prepared to feast at the wake table
that bids you farewell.