The jugglers

A repost/revision in honor of International Women's Day.

The pictures that inspired this poem. Poem first posted here.

My little son shows me a picture he is drawing
of a blonde woman with long black lashes.
I ask who she is. She is a juggler. 
She’s juggling some things.

That's her daughter, he says
leading me to another piece of paper.

The women in these drawings are hemmed in 
by so many items in the air around them
circling and falling and landing on the grass.

They are juggling broccoli and wedges of watermelon
chocolate chip cookies and a jack-o-lantern
and even—what are those?—
some medium-rare steaks.

Their outstretched hands are frozen in place.
The objects arc over them like a rainbow
filling both pages with more things
than a woman should ever 
be expected to juggle.