Criminalisation of Clothes

A Poem by Anna Moore

Musings on political choices...

The time is two thousand plus the ten and add the six.
These are the years of progress.

The period is the eighth one when warmth fills the
Sky and children play for longer.

Days be gifted with ice-cream and buzzing bees,
The smell in the air is that of charcoaled beef.

Couples strolling, hundreds of fingers interlinked, delicate
Gills, subtlety nagging with niggling mirth.

The banning of beachwear an acceptable trend,
As one must only pose with barely there clothes.

Progressive times are these, we suppose.
Frolicking frees the breeze. Now show me your knees.

Please, sultry shoulders and wobbly thighs.
Halting of swimming the ultimate prize.

Strip or leave the beach. A completely fair view.
Inclusivity no longer a missile fired from the state.

Chartered fines from those in uniform, covered up
On the beach with guns on slipped hips.

Strip or leave the beach. A completely fair view.
But the uniform is forced upon thee by a hirer power.

The uniformed uprights remain fully covered, dishing out
The punitive action to the fully clothed other.

Strip or leave the beach. A completely fair view.
Boots laced to the ankle, trousers tucked into socks.

The waves crash gently, the breeze cools faces.
The sun stifles not. Bullet proof vests cover the chest.

Strip or leave the beach. A hypocrites view.
Why does it matter how ones feet get to splatter

On the shore? The form covering a bottom sat on
The sands, or if headscarfs sit over one’s glands?

If one cannot cover the breasts of a mother,
The police should surely strip on down.

Step out of the clothing that binds them.
The less fabric the better. The freedom vendetta.

Strip or leave the beach. The completely
Fair view of a society progressing into back.