on turning thirty

my body’s betraying me   following the path of nature
i was given&never asked for
soft fat around my tummy looks         motherly
my thighs follow their mediterranean mould
my hips              mock my early twenties jeans
&i can’t bear to answer yet another question
when will you be a mother   are you ever getting married
a grandchild will make me so happy 

at home,
i speak to my body trying to make it understand that
im not ready, i might never be
i keep explaining that motherhood is a         choice
the mirror keeps         hinting
that at almost thirty
i’ve failed