when my neck did not ache.
I walk bent forward
like an old woman
trying to bear her weight on her knees.
My shoulders curve from my spine
my spine from my hips
and it is only when I am asleep
that I may stretch straight.
Even then it is an anchor
tugging against me
when my dreams toss my head
from side to side.
It is why I sit so still.
Dragging this mass behind me is a tiresome task.
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.
2 comments:
oh dear i love youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
i knew it was hair! good one! i can not wait to read a whole book of your poems, where i can turn the pages and put in a book mark and dog ear the ones that i love best :)
thanks for sharing again of your talent
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