Woman

A Terza Rima by Janan Young

At the club with pool and courts,

sweating on the gray carpet,

the copper woman in bike shorts,

busy like a sprocket, fit,

well not quite. When her head

weakens, her thighs remit.

Knees, a heart shape desired.

My mind reviews womanhood.

Her small muscles curved

and whittled like rosewood.

And I see her on the mat -

when I took dance I could

make ropey triceps like that.

A few wrinkles lined her skin

that was otherwise flat.

But her curves showed their sin

each muscle dipping under,

enough to hold a man's grin.

Each shape a spiral, going lower,

contour draped in worth.

And I felt this image's power

deep as seawater and birth;

how her movement pulls as yet

from a force outside the earth.

Distanced, she wasn't a threat,

a faceless icon. The men's

hot eyes loosened her step.

Previously published in Morpo Review