What Fashioned Me, by Merridawn Duckler

I was the offspring of mommy jeans and a boyfriend card;
I adored my Grannypanties, and lived for meggings and a biketard.
When I was sad, I got Dolman sleeves;
my shrug shrunk, sometimes even my top would trapeze.
Eventually I went double breasted and found a sweet heart neck,
despite some serious high-water jeans neglect.
I mean, I knew it was only an illusion bodice
in college, I got the whole pencil point, clutched a codpiece
and got a job, munching a baguette bag, pure messenger geek.
And I felt for: the hobo, circling skirt and heroin chic.
They’ll bury me in a coffin dress, ma
when I can no longer reach my shelf bra;
but yet may I haunt in shift and sheath,
the deep discounts of the underneath.