the de beauvoir excuse

Mine and yours
were sold, well weighted
in balances and pans.
The bids were high, and we succumbed
believing in our labeled worth
preening and downcast, or
making deals, saving face, being rentable.

Land, language, mother-
Everything was whored.
A sneer or a smile were powerful,
for paths changed, forgetting all joys.
Remained only the diplomas, the money,
the look of admiration in faces I love not.
For pride and gold trade for God.