-the Sacred Heart Academy girls-

I was too young

to go to the dance. 

but the girls from the Academy

tucked into my sister's bedroom

prepared themselves.

the door was slightly ajar,

never able to fully close
no matter how hard they pushed

in order to shut me out.

my gait from the kitchen through the narrow
hallway to the parlor slowed to funeral steps

as I hesitated before the intriguing goings on
through the narrow breach at the door.

in there, they examined their skin —

pressed the upper eyelashes

with an implement designed

to do only that and nothing else.

they primed their hair

in sprays to hold it down.

they dabbed

the backs of their ears

with Wind Song perfume 

and the backs of their knees —

rolled deodorants, sniffing

the hairless armpits to sweet certainty,

listening to Elvis and Fats
crooning from 45s spinning 

and slipped their legs

into nylon and crinoline.

earlier, two of them took baths in our tub,
(my tub as I saw it) heating the cold porcelain.

all too soon I could hear the lot of them

giggling with anticipation, leaving
the hems of their skirts in their wakes on the run

through the kitchen door leaving the early-evening
light of the house, and me, behind them.

                                         1017 Bedford