fifty years fly by

my sister grew breasts first, my Irish twin a year older
we’d been dressed alike until she went to the tuck-in
white blouse, loosely nipped into her slim waistline
I in the sixth grade Catholic jumper of blue navy wool
jealous of her and my cousin who
both tied elastic around rib cages
high up under fledgling breasts to imitate a bra
they practiced kissing each other and me
so we’d all be ready when a boy came along, lips,
bra straps, breasts
I was happy to be included
and then mine appeared like mushroom caps
one bigger than the other the summer
I was eleven, before my period
before any talk about anything but these boys
who would arrive, according to my sister
and my cousin
my breasts budded screaming as if
on fire, nipples bleeding from
rapid growth or shirts or swimsuit rubbing.
My mother leaned down like
a scientist and poked one nipple when I showed
her the pain and the blood and she said she’d get me
a bra, but she forgot. The babies, all of them and my
brother well, we just didn’t go shopping, so she took
me to her room, rummaged her chest of drawers and
out came a crinkly white thing, try this on, she said, this
might fit— Had she been saving it for one of us?
I bypassed A cup that day, straight to this raggedy
prize that made my sister jealous, yea—she’d be stuck in A’s for
quite a while—we could never trade or share our bras.
At 16 I gave up underwear, rubbery girdles, garter belts and nylons
hand-me-down or cheap and awkward things
my own revolt against the patriarchy; the public school principal
always a male, dictated from on high that girls
would wear skirts with nylons, garter belts or girdles, and bras
I challenged the stupid man with loose clothing, bare legs or tights
and never did get busted, honor student invisible—they let me walk the hall
—Let them suffer was my motto, upsetting men with my free breasts
as if my body were their business, let them be upset or just not look
and, oh, yes, they did arrive
the boys in cars, on bikes, on foot—nice ones, sweet idiots and geniuses
one madman who pulled me into the bushes, whispering
how dare you walk around without a bra? How dare you walk like that?