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,
All of the places that anyone could see
But were plainly ours.
Copyright © georgia lackely | Year Posted 2021
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