Resounding pounding booming voices,
we walk as tribe towering through town–
big women, muscular and thick.
Known for our beakish noses and long necks,
the women in our family walk tall and short
thin and squat, spoon and saucer, some
tea and coffee drinkers, sweet and savory,
all manner of political persuasion, religions
zealots and atheists all, strong and quiet
loud and soft, self-realized and delusional,
married and single, childless and family’d,
but we share too bountiful brows and thin
lips or thin, hairless arcs with thick bottoms.
No one escaped freckles, some splotched
others speckled like paint splatter, touched.
Hair painted blonde, brown, blue, red or rust
from birth or bottle, we live color and light.
Our faces trace aspect of notable signature
only ours and fragmented chromosomal bits
of all those big feet that marched soils’ exile
from Siberia to Spain’s royal anti semites
of centuries past onto gypsies roaming free
dancing to the colors of a rhythmic breath
breathed in noses shaped for soaring flight.
In the gaze of the other 