The Old Maid Factory

This is the factory Where they manufacture old maids At one end of the assembly line The women are jostled into their places They wonder where they are going What will happen to them One says, “Where is my sister?” But the foreman is not permitted to answer First she will be hollowed out Her juices extracted Her natural organs replaced By parts she is not permitted to name Her five senses Are replaced by substitutes Guaranteed non-inflammable Non-toxic Her sister is replaced by a substitute At the end of the assembly line The old maid minces out Into what she calls America She has forgotten she is a woman She has no sister In her shriveled brain Something murmurs that life is an accident She wonders how it happened to her