THE PUTTING ON OF STOCKINGS.

[dadio]

Even putting on stockings is an effort.
They have to be put on neat without
Creases or ladder runs caused by the
Fingernails catching. She pauses looking

At her hands. The nails have been clipped,
The clippings saved, she remembers putting
Them in a small box along with hair clippings.
She holds the stockings between fingers,

Senses the nylon, the fine smoothness.
She’s removed them three times now and
Each time they have creases in them or get
Caught half way up the leg. She remembers

Her mother saying about her OCD, the time
It took to do simple tasks, her father shouting,
The moans and groans, the lack of understanding.
She tries again. The mind taking in each aspect

Of the task, the fingers ready like Olympic runners,
The eyes focusing, the mind alert for all errors,
For lack of preciseness. One morning last week,
It took her fifteen attempts to put on her panties,

Putting on and removing until the simple task
Was complete to the mind’s satisfaction, until
No mistakes were made. Chandler went home
In the end, the trip to the dance abandoned,

She left in her room half dressed in front of her
Dressing table mirror trying to put on her clothes
Without error. She pulls on the stockings over
The knees with ease, up the thighs, pauses, sighs.

A fingernail has caught and has caused a run,
A ladder down the thigh to the knee. Ruined
Now, she must remove them and replace with
New; the black ones that Chandler bought.

She slowly removes the stockings, the fingers
Holding tight, the voice cursing under the breath,
Even the removal must be just so, you know?