Elegy for Your Breasts

 
For their heresy, you dress the twin sisters
in what they deserve, layers

on layers of fabric, drapes hung
close to the skin,

raiments of unspun wool, burlap
and damp gabardine—

those heavy, pensive nuns, pendulant
in full habit, you don’t let them

breathe or squint in the sun—
you want murder by guillotine

dream of ease in battle
amazon style

how you’ll cock the bow left and right,
ambidextrous in the field.

from Contrary, University of Chicago’s Literary Journal, contrarymagazine.com, Spring 2015