Underwear for the Afterlife

Another writing prompt from Dr. T: “When I was in the Underworld…”

Most women remember someone telling them – a mother, a friend, a friend’s mother – how it is always important to leave the house in underwear you wouldn’t be embarrassed to have cut off you if you were ever in an accident. Such a strange world we live in. Of course, I had to write a poem about it.

Here is UNDERWEAR FOR THE AFTERLIFE…


When I was in the Underworld
I remembered something weird
My Mother used to tell me–

“Before getting into a car, dear,
Always make sure, have a care
Your underwear is clean and decent;
You never know when you might be in an accident,
Pinned to a tree with the wheels still spinning,
Still turning with the car sideways in the ditch
Or flipped over a cliff.

You never know when an
Eligible bachelor, maybe one of those
Brave Blue-Suited Firemen or Paramedics
Might have to use the Jaws of Life
To cut you from the wreckage.

And even if your friend is dead
And spread along the highway in bits,
Limbs in the thickets and drainage ditches,
Her limp body slung over the center divider-
You never know when
They might still have to cut your clothes off YOU;

You know how hard it is,
When the blood and gravel mix in
With glass shards in your skin,
To get the clothes off to check
For further injuries.

So, my dear, have a care what you wear –

No teddies made of gummy bears
No rubber-studded negligees,
No Superhero lingerie or
Or chocolate covered bustiers
No furry thongs, no leather belts
No corsets made of weasel pelts
No babydolls, no black silk slips
No paste-on cups in the shape of lips
No super-conducting underwire
No French Maid or High School Nurse attire
No garter belts or Union suits
No bloomers made from parachutes–

Because, wouldn’t it be a shame
For some handsome ambulance driver
With a steady job, a promising future,
To find you caught so ill-prepared,
Wearing the wrong sort of underwear?”

When I was in the Underworld,
Even with my chattering teeth
And my blood as cold as ice,
I remembered her strange advice:

“You know it’s never what’s outside that counts
But the person underneath!
If you want to catch a decent man,
Dear, stick to cotton briefs.”

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One thought on “Underwear for the Afterlife

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