I remember her
with a phone
pressed to her neck
by her right shoulder
as she squeezed a baby
to her breast
and gripped a bowl
of cereal hi her left
at the kids to get ready for school
and her husband to take out the trash.
Had Michelangelo been around
he could have sculptured
the woman of her day
in as long a time as he needed
for I swear
she could hold that pose forever.
She'd be in the Louvre now, gazed at by tourists.
"At least she's got her arms,"
the males would whisper.
"But none of them are free,"
the women would reply.
Sadly, she's only in snapshots
free of any burdens,
sitting or standing, widening her lips,
showing a little teeth,
at the behest of the photographer.
None of these pictures remind me of her.
I doubt if she'd even recognize herself.
Not that she didn't have a lovely smile.
But she was never happy with it.