Rhea Gupte

Not a single shoe has bitten me in years.
Not a belt, strap, snap pinches my skin too tight.
Nothing leaves marks on my body.
I am not a canvas
for what I wear
to scratch and dent.
In my clothes I choose to breathe.
But for a world I dream
where we may all say
no tear has been shed,
no backs broken,
no hands overworked,
no payment stolen,
no freedom usurped,
in the making of anything that lives on me.