International Women's Day

It's almost over for this year.
A small observance,
this poem by April Rose Brown:

    Baking a Cake on
International Women's Day
           or
  How Far We Have Come


Granny's old bowl...
I mix in
chocolate, beat it
three hundred strokes
by hand
with my mother's
wooden spoon-­
the spoon I used to
lick-- the bowl
I used to
stick my head in,
tongue run wild.  I
used to
swallow
everything.

Counting strokes-­
nothing changes.
Lumps remain, as usual

My stomach churns.
I cannot
lick this bowl.

more by A.R.B