Poems

Uniform

They won’t look good no matter what you do
school skirts
Even when you roll them up at the waist
or take them in it makes no difference
Always that same mouse grey

You know the pains it takes to look different
After so many generations
It’s a piece of your girlhood
you’re looking at, that half-tamed madness

Even now moments out of uniform are hard
And it demands a miserable effort
What we call being oneself

It’s their first strike against us
the grey school skirt

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