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