women poetry australia:

Bloodlines and Body

Now middle-aged, there is no
observational discernment of indentations.

Demarcations somewhere lost, hidden
between Dolly's and Madonna's seductive
curvy, flawless flowing forms.

Obtrusive mine, a female body
like one tiny, creamy Mozarella ball.

Same face, now weathered
with creased lines of aged frowns
and laughter reflected in the mirror

I see this image everyday.
Tell my mother "I love you."

Always mother winks at me
and smiles, the way
that mothers do.