We were only aware of small parts
of ourselves and they became
Just our crimson kickpleats.
Just our ghillies, the
black latticework of ankles, our fists,
white hearts clenched
around a bit of sleeve.
Over — the stiff panels of our skirts
closing back over our legs like trapdoors.
And when we took them off, our empty dresses
stood on their own along the wall,
as if to say
if we fall, and
ear pressed to the ground,
like a row of bright tents or overturned
Katie Hogan recently completed an MFA in Poetry at the University of New Hampshire.