The year previous to the year
Of the Nation Reborn,
We met — you confused
Military commandant’s wife,
Fretting for yourself
More than for anything else;
Accursed and left to salute in
I stuffed you thoughts, which,
A year later, were to be
Banned in the face of the Rekindled Nation.
Life astern, at midlife crisis, that year year before, you said I’m right.
And now, we meet; and the cruel interim
Had been too too cruel to some
Not among us. Some, who never would be and who’d never be feared,
But, whose mortared vaginas, so as not to breed, were speared.
And now, we meet; and unsettled no more,
You, too, are of the parade and shines
Like a badge. And in assured steps, in herofied glory,
You set the heel of your perfumed golden straps.