Today's poem is by Carla Schick

Dressing Room—
       

I pull tee-shirts
off my skin. A woman looks
at me the way the angled mirrors fracture
my body into a thousand kaleidoscopic
petals. I never found desire
hiding under rows
of dresses. My mind wanders
back to a time when I etched stick figures
into worn school desks. Stiff bodies, lines
for clothing, ungendered. I don't mean
to philosophize at you—

but a sneer follows
the woman's voice
in Alexander's department store
when she questions
me      Are you in the right
dressing room      trying to size up
my body parts under a winter jacket
and loose jeans. Out of style, I'd like to pass
over this life as a sparrow, blending in
with grasses & weeds. If a sparrow is confused
by its reflections, staring at a prism
with distorted images, would it believe
it shouldn't exist or that it has another
self, hidden beneath its feathers?

Copyright © 2025 Carla S. Schick All rights reserved
from beestung
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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