standing in the gallery of acceptable behaviors,

tourists photograph your discomfort like art—

curators still adjusting the lighting to

highlight your feminine inadequacies.

 

oh, isn't this exploitation spectacular,

a preservation of submission in formaldehyde—

people paying admission to fill their own cup,

while the gift shops sell miniature versions of

womanly service and compromise stuck in time.

 

see how they’ve mounted your dignity next to

the extinct wings of species passed, saying,

a contemporary adaptation of her—

documentaries of intentional drowning

playing tribute to the life designed for you.

 

and the gift shops still sell miniature versions

of your womanly service and compromise—

each made where survival is a national sport.