She’s a woman with a mission and a plan.
She’s insulted if you tell her she’s as strong as a man.
“I’ve never met a man whom I wasn’t stronger than,”
she’ll retort with her habitual grammatical finesse:
gently stressing “whom” as she smooths her chartreuse dress –
whose velvet presses, on her finely muscled flesh, a caress,
another stimulus to men and women who desire to inquire
(which daily an innumerable number yearn to do) if the fire
she’s inspired in the throng who sing her praises like a choir
ever make her long to love a single lover. And if so, who?
The largeness of her body, mind and heart! Could she be true,
give her art, to any but best? She whispers a request – for you.