Tabor at 59

 

Tabor is ready, whatever life asks.

Her feet will not miss a beat.

The unfaltering aim of her gaze,

the lift of her chin,

the pride in the bones of her cheeks

all announce that

this woman's dance will not end.

 

Her belly has been a taut dome

over the head of that holy of holies, new life.

A dome whose design could outshine

even the Taj Mahal, and all the seven

wonders of the world (if the truth be told).

This belly is not afraid of a furrow or fold.

 

Nor is her tunnel of love and of birth

ashamed of itself, of the hidden

muscles that hold and give forth

the loves of a woman's whole life.

 

Nor do the breasts scorn the fullness

that makes them sag, her breasts

that need to climb no mountain to gaze

upon promised land, they have been

the mountain, they have been the land

overflowing with milk and with honey.

 

She will dance on and on.