See, my sisters, all of us together
posing in the snow, the perfect Christmas Day
showing off our brand new winter coats.
You, Marianne, the eldest, still flaunting
those fine, fair legs in short style
emerald green neon and loud red stripes
like a feminist crusader parading the cross
on which a million fashion victims died.
You, Geraldine, are younger and more coy
covered neck to ankle in muted moss
the new length, not to be outdone
by your older sibling. Hat, too, soft
and subtle, while she prefers a statement
big brim, not to shade the sun, but
calculated to invite closer scrutiny.
And what of me? I was nine or ten
and chuffed as hell with my outfit as well
encrusted with diamonds, red and green
and blue, double-breasted chic
and warm, blue legs. Three lithe lasses
on snow patrol. Three bright baubles
twinkling in December gloom.
First published in Reach Poetry