Counting Breasts by John Grey

You can never have enough breasts, says Marsha.
Two to look at in the mirror,
tell yourself. “I’m a woman.”
Two to show off to that special guy,
move his body in mysterious ways.
And there’s the two, of course.
from the chart on her doctor’s wall,
two semi-circles
equidistant from the gullet and the maw.
Breasts are required
to illustrate every variation of the word:
two boobs, two tits, two melons,
two jugs, two headlights, two knockers.
two bazooms., two hooters, two coconuts,
two dugs (what an ugly word),
two, or is that one, bosom.
You need breasts for cleavage.
breasts for bras, for sweaters.
And better have a breast or two
in case of babies a year or two
down the road.
That’s a whole lot of breasts
to be crammed inside the two.
So wear them proud.
As her Jewish grandmother
would say,
stop with the counting already.

John Gray Copy
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Silkworm work upcoming in Big Muddy Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review.
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