Peter Pan chased his shadow into the little girl’s room,
Wanted her to sew the dusky feet onto his feet.
Look—she’s taking up her thread and needle.
On stage, the shadow’s made from netting.
Sheer black pantyhose, purchased cheaply
Or taken from an actor’s drawer at home.
But who out there can tell me why
The silhouette of a boy who cannot bear to age
Is trimmed from women’s flimsy underpinnings.
Or do I have the question wrong,
Should I ask why ladies coat their legs with filmy shadows,
Like fountain pens dipped into inkwells.