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Caroline Maun
Twin Set
I was such an adult
in the matched, peach set
of sateen bra and panties
bought with allowance
from McCrory’s.
Something was wrong with
the boyfriend, and I was dressing
thoughtfully. The slinky
polyester with lace elastic,
bra clasp cleverly in front,
holding itself together.
Embroidered rosettes
would shrivel in regular
wash. A few years before,
everything in the closet
was homemade from double knit
from the sale aisle; my mother
affixed layer after layer
of brocade trim to the legs
of trousers like tree rings.
Over the twin set I wore
an emerald camp shirt
and the pair of Levi’s
I’d argued for. On my feet
were Reeboks, sponge plush
in a shade of doomed white.
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