Tennis Skirt

By JULIETTE JEFFERS

I am a student of the world,

but I was made in a factory

and that factory is in America.

I was made in a factory by

a brilliant man who just wanted

every young woman to embrace

her education. Some say a uniform

can iron a girl out, but I sit innocently

on a stool and listen closely. Maybe

they should put priests in tennis skirts. Maybe

we should play tennis with a racket

for a change. One night, I slept on the floor

of your factory and you came to me.

I confused myself with you, the maker,

but I let myself be made. Gray wool

pleating at the upper thigh, I wept

because I knew I was made

for this century.