were firmer
and smoother, and
more than a little
ungainly,
we didn't think
that we were lovely.
We thought
that so much
malicious under-
ripeness
was a burden
to be spurned,
and we longed to invest
in maturity's soft-
and sweetness .
But now, looking back
with greater
poise—but also
weakness—
we realize
that the bruises
of maturity come
with a cost:
we must have first broadcast
our desire
to be consumed
the instant we found
we were finished
being green.
