In 1984, every girl
wore those jelly shoes.
Glitter plastic in pink
and blue and yellow
seemed so frivolous.
They hurt, they pinched,
gave no heel or arch support,
but still,
I wanted them.
Flimsy buckles and basket-
weave spilling toes out,
leaving sharp red grooves
like a map for hours.
I wanted to be that frivolous,
to squeeze the surface of
my nine year old feet, marking me
like every girl.
First published in Like a Girl: the Pre-Show!
Sarah Thursday 