Principal Boy – A Poem by Julie Hogg


all tit’s taped and britches,

tight clad in muted lipstick,

frillless blouses, knotted laces,

buckled up in blocked heels,

greasepaint curls deliberately

teased into short back and

sides, slightly sadistic casting

calls for extra exaggerative

slapped thighs or bawdy reverie

in auditions for common

possessions of hot-air dames,

reading repetitive lines rehearsed

millions of times to jingoistic

tunes from the orchestra pits,

typically slipped behind gags,

a vocational claptrap door,

picked her effervescent worth

off our dressing room flaws.


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