Short Skirt Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Short skirt

With summer on the run
Occasion turn around:
“Look for me, I will come! ”
As if a failed boxer; candidate.

Chill has come and dictates:
“The sleeve must grow
No T-shirts, wife-beaters
Put aside your noodle…”

She stands with friend
In her hand large coffee
Starbucks…on roadside
Cigarette in left hand
And they chat…

Face painted, and well-made
Mascara, false eyelash, full colour
Skin shows trace of nippiness…

She wears short, maroon dress
On its top a jacket, of leather
Skirt is above knees to mid thighs
Her white-well-shaven legs are naked.

To people, her skin sends shiver
“How can she in this cold…? ”

“We, women die to be visible…”
Said Nahid, friend’s wife, years ago.