Locker Smells

by Theresa Nelson

The Occelots race up and down

the wooden floorboards as we girls

in permanent pleated short skirts

leap, squeal, and perspire.

Repeatedly, The Panthors score,

yet our duty is to be euphoric,

bouncy, festive, so we shriek

until we are dizzy

from lack of breathing.

In the tiled locker room,

girls of the winning team

imitate our cheers, jeer

our voices, sniff

our uniforms while we huddle

in the corner underneath their

slicing eyes.  I ease back into

the open metal space and slowly

close the door.  Here,

the sneakers and I are safe.

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1 Comment

Filed under Issue 7, Poetry

One response to “Locker Smells

  1. Ashley

    “permanent pleated short skirts” – I love the alliteration in that line. I also like the “simple” but vivid descriptions. You can really picture it as you’re reading it.

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