She looks like a woman tired.
She looks like you and me
and her

and her and her.
She looks like she has rolled her eyes

at the same
sideways, hairy, questions

with regards to

the hows

of her bedroom life

and they are always

mouth-breathing, lip-licking

as they wait for her answer

What parts go where? (How does it work?)

Is there a machine involved? (Tell me what you smell like?)

Men, she decides, can only categorize women

as Furniture or Meat.

She looks as though she can build things
like a table
or a life for herself
She looks like her own family
because she may not have one
outside of her skin.
Self contained
survival unit
on two sturdy hips
and curves
and bones
and fingertips.