The Match

I can hear my breath Blood pounding in my ears The tune too fast for comfort My palms unhelpfully moist Conversely my mouth bone dry I feel unsteady on my feet Will my knees give way? I stifle a cough All eyes on me I hate the attention Is my outfit appropriate? Too showy, too plain? Is my hair neat enough? Do my eyes sparkle? What do they see When they look at me? I feel like an animal In a gilded cage ...In a market Will they inspect my teeth? Count my fingers and toes? Do they care about my personality? My desires, my aspirations? Or do they just see a womb A cook, a cleaner, a nurse? The families have conferred Long ago it was settled My fate and future decided I have no say I have no option I have no way out Oppression is duty Repression a given Self-conscious, anxious and resigned My only hope for today As I wait nervously For him to appear Is that the match made... ...is a good one.