The beauty question will be asked Poem by Véronique Pittolo

The beauty question will be asked. Once and for all. The sign of femaleness goes hand in hand with danger, expectation and frustration, dizzy hope.

The birth of a baby girl for royal families was a disaster, she was not the holy child, the marks she'd leave were monitored, her hairs, the little fossils of her teeth.

The witch's night-time part would stay intact. Today, with assisted reproduction, mothers stand aloof, and boy or girl, the child's accepted, registered, certified by a rubber stamp. In the bathroom mirror she no longer interrogates herself.

Modern techniques suggest new children for mothers on their own. Fathers go on changing light-bulbs, children go on getting bored.