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Grandma's Corset
by June LabyzonStill months upon months
thoughts of you
linger
holding me tight
like my grandmother’s corset’
the kind you had to tie
with ribbons; intutitive
fashion. My grandmother
never went out without
one. My mother followed
that pattern, exchanging the corset
for a girdle, which I broke
in the summer of 1966
when a young man
I crushed attempted
to pinch my backside
and nearly broke
his thumb on the
latex fabric.
The fabric is old
and the knots seem to
be cemented together;
a bit too snug, a blister
pack for my heart.
I play the patience game,
know the thoughts will
go away some day or
you will come back
to me. Either will
totally exceed easy
expectations. For now,
there’s nothing wrong
with feeling sorry
for myself, it instills
strength to my fragile
soul.
10/16/2014 Posted on 10/16/2014
Copyright © 2024 June Labyzon
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/17/14 at 06:07 PM Quite fascinating thinking about the evolution of female fashion and its considered "support". I remember my mom's girdle well and am still thankful I was in the generation that took a softer, less restrictive approach to ones figure. I like the idea of "intuitive fashion". There's something very cohesive about the girdle and your "fragile soul". |
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