Mother,
do you ever feel you’re not as fresh
                                                 down there?
In the 70’s ad, a mother’s crocheted sleeve
encircles her daughter’s shoulders.
They walk in a soft-focused world
of sand and golden sun.

O daughter,
has your apple blossom browned a little?

Daughter’s cheeks pink, pink, pink,
Mother’s eyes spoon her up like steamed milk.
Time for a douche
to bring back the sweetness
of honeysuckle dew.

With a swig of Sweet Romance,
we can all swish back to spring—
halter tops, hip-huggers,
and a freshness beginning from deep within.

There’s always a buzz
around a woman blooming,
with every breath
she exhales confidence and fecundity.
Look how the lady’s-slipper awaits a foot.