-justifiably obsessed-

she asked what it was that drove our obsession.

one born from many years past,

recalling the girls of the city’s Academies;

the Schools of the Catholic Church

who were rooted to the walls of the earth
like diamond

across the city where they were mined,
polished and readied;

what this obsession was for the jumpers

falling straight to the hem,—

the blue-grey plaids of the pleated skirts,

the crooked knee socks, the glance

in the eye-light if we passed inspection,—

the scuff on the toe of the saddle-shoes
called brown and whites, along with their sisters,

the black and whites who drove us crazy.

these obsessions are fixed and linger

because they performed
the way the city performed.

granite and cotton.

the planet without makeup,
without jewelry,

without the stiff,
spray-net of hairdos.

those things, those enhancements,

came latter in the week,

after the wind from the river
sparked the fire

of the girls from the schools
who rendered us helpless.

I’m weak-knee’d at the thought of it.