The Woman in the Ordinary in  General   

The woman in the ordinary pudgy downcast girl
is crouching with eyes and muscles clenched.
Round and pebble smooth she effaces herself
under ripples of conversation and debate.
The woman in the block of ivory soap
has massive thighs that neigh,
great breasts that blare and strong arms that trumpet.
The woman of the golden fleece
laughs uproariously from the belly
inside the girl who imitates
a Christmas card virgin with glued hands,
who fishes for herself in other's eyes,
who stoops and creeps to make herself smaller.
In her bottled up is a woman peppery as curry,
a yam of a woman of butter and brass,
compounded of acid and sweet like a pineapple,
like a handgrenade set to explode,
like goldenrod ready to bloom.

By Marge Piercy

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Other poems by Marge Piercy:

• A Work Of Artifice
• Always Unsuitable
• Attack of the Squash People
• Barbie Doll
• Belly Good
• Colors Passing Through Us
• For the Young Who Want To
• Implications of One Plus One
• The Friend
• The Morning Half-Life Blues
• The Neighbor
• The Seven Of Pentacles
• The Woman in the Ordinary
• To Be of Use
• To the Pay Toilet
• Toad Dreams
• Traveling Dream
• Visiting a Dead Man on a Summer Day
• What Are Big Girls Made Of?
• Winter Promises
• You Ask Why Sometimes I Say Stop