|Tabor at 59
Tabor is ready, whatever life asks.
Her feet will not miss a beat.
The unfaltering aim of her gaze,
the lift of her chin,
the pride in the bones of her cheeks
all announce that
this woman's dance will not end.
Her belly has been a taut dome
over the head of that holy of holies, new life.
A dome whose design could outshine
even the Taj Mahal, and all the seven
wonders of the world (if the truth be told).
This belly is not afraid of a furrow or fold.
Nor is her tunnel of love and of birth
ashamed of itself, of the hidden
muscles that hold and give forth
the loves of a woman's whole life.
Nor do the breasts scorn the fullness
that makes them sag, her breasts
that need to climb no mountain to gaze
upon promised land, they have been
the mountain, they have been the land
overflowing with milk and with honey.
She will dance on and on.