appealing

The Maynard
Fall 2018

Amanda Proctor

Nicer

If you couldn’t see their bras, those girls would look nicer,
my mother said as I ate my Happy Meal in the mall food court.
Under their spaghetti tanks bright green and pink straps glowed like fire.
We’ll get you a strapless bra, so you don’t look like that,

my mother said as I ate my Happy Meal in the mall food court.
Unsure, and fingers slimy from fries, all I could hear was
We’ll get you a strapless bra, so you don’t look like that,
as I watched them drink strawberry milkshakes and pick food from their braces.

Unsure, and fingers slimy from fries, all I could hear was
my mother click her tongue, look down in outrage
as they drank strawberry milkshakes and picked food from their braces.
I zipped my fleece sweater towards my chin, hoping when I was their age

my mother wouldn’t click her tongue, look down in outrage,
if I defied leering gazes and fingers looped, snapping straps, slapping skin.
I zipped my fleece sweater towards my chin hoping when I was their age
my mother wouldn’t blame me because she thinks

I defied leering gazes and fingers looped, snapping straps, slapping skin,
and under my spaghetti tank bright green and pink straps glowed like fire.
Hoping my mother wouldn’t blame me because she thinks
if you couldn’t see their bras, those girls would look nicer.