Catholic School

The checkered skirts my hell. The checkered skirts that would make girls sweat in the heat with modest button-downs. The checkered skirts that would sometimes rise up To expose messy knees. The checkered skirts that sometimes Rose up to a forbidden thigh when sitting down. I savored this. The rare knee, Evasive crook of the leg, The elusive top of the thigh, In between scripture She would give me her eyes, Laughing with a joke. She would give me her hair, Soft and easy to braid. She would give me her smile, Gap toothed and all. They think checkered skirts and modest button-downs will stop us. We instead give each other our elbows, Our noses, Our eyebrows, All of the places that anyone could see But were plainly ours.