At fifty I am startled to find I am in my splendor

Julie Bowen e Sofia Vergara

These days I admit

I am wide as a tule tree.

My underwear protests.

And yet,

I like myself best

without clothes when

I can admire myself

as God made me, still

divine as a maja.

Wide as a fertility goddess,

though infertile. I am,

as they say,

in decline. Teeth

worn down, eyes burning

yellow. Of belly

bountiful and flesh

beneficent I am. I am

silvering in crags

of crotch and brow.

Amusing.

I am a spectator at my own sport.

I am Venetian, decaying splendidly.

Am magnificent beyond measure.

Lady Pompadour roses exploding

before death. Not old.

Correction, aged.

Passé? I am but vintage.

I am a woman of a delightful season.

El Cantarito, little brown jug of la Lotería.

Solid, stout, bottom planted

firmly and without a doubt,

filled to the brim I am.

I said the brim.

Sandra Cisneros