poem
Volume 24, Number 4

Wonder Woman on Farwell Avenue

Tall and slim at the curb,
wrists banded in metal,
holding a homemade sign:
Have a Nice Day.

Everyone knows Wonder Woman.
This one smiles at the passing traffic, tugs
now and then on the strapless red bodice
(shapely, though his actual chest is flat.)
His star-spangled miniskirt sways
as he moves, sometimes kicks, those long lean legs,
the red knee-high go-go boots.

Wonder Woman is not bearded,
but this version is. People come
close, camera-phones in hand, to record
this embodiment of strong womanhood.
Passing cars honk or yell encouragement.
Someone wolf-whistles. His hips swivel.
Now he’s dancing to music only he can hear.
Everyone’s looking.

                         Across the street
one after another, young women slip unnoticed
into the abortion clinic.


—Phyllis Wax