when my neck did not ache.
I walk bent forward
like an old woman trying
to bear the weight upon her knees.
My shoulders curve from my spine
and it is only when I am asleep
that I may stretch it straight.
Even then the weight sits like an anchor
tugging against me when my dreams
toss my head from side to side.
It is why I sit so still.
To move is an enormous task
to drag this length behind me
and how it coils around my feet
and slicks a heavy heat down my back
till I am just sweat and skin
and weight
If they call it beauty let them bear it
and brush it and braid it
as for me.
I'd let it all burn.
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