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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.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Date: 5/13/2021 12:05:00 PM
Welcome to Poetry Soup, Georgia. I enjoyed your foray into the Catholic school classroom. Something tells me you had a propensity to be a bit naughty. Loved your poem.
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Date: 5/12/2021 1:55:00 PM
Oh the stories we could tell....
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Date: 5/12/2021 11:11:00 AM
Ah yes, Catholic school...and the nuns would walk around carrying a pointer and crack your knuckles if you got out of line...such fond memories. Nicely written, Georgia, welcome to Poetry Soup. John
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