My Breasts-Ann's Story Poem by Lonnie Hicks

It is always the same;
dragging me into memory
there to castigate you
to love you
to mystify you
again
from my young girl-child's fantasy stance-
you my lover-father
pressing against me
all those sexually
missed loving-buttons
and I perfectly
fitting into that primal imaginary imagery:
scenes
both loving it
and enjoying it
and rejecting it
as my girl-child wanting it
indeed seeing it
as passage
to my woman-hood
replacing mother
and she
indignantly
watches it;
as I
relished it
for my womanhood
not to be denied
as I let my breasts grow
for that is a choice
from girl-hood
where tiny breasts
would force me forever
into child-hood.

I was clear from the beginning
that womanhood
produces milk
for the children
even at the risk
a sexual dad-boys
noticing
as opposed to remaining
safe as a
asexual child
forever,
never
growing
to woman hood
without true
sexual capability:
every
woman's choice.
Breasts sometimes makes
us choose
one, both, or neither.