Just read this:
“Why I Collect The Hair”
Years ago, a college boyfriend left my bed
to go home. His mother honed in
on the brassy streaks
and pulled them off
with what white girl are you seeing?
So, I’m still plucking, gathering up
small tumbleweeds in my palm,
clues that deny brown
coiled inside me.
and this:
“The Birth, Then Roses”
How each red silky slip of slower body must have
brushed against my mother’s face. Heavy sugar
to claim the carriage and birth,
not enough to coat pricks to come.
How the fists and philandering were unexpected.
How much sweeter it felt to hear the name
of her first child, a daughter, pulling away,
out of her, pushing a path into chaos that begins
them both.
My mother needed more than petals.
Need I say more, why I need to to get hold of it?
1 comments:
Yes you poet do need to unit...
That second verse is just WOW...Deep...
I can see why you highlighted that one...
Happy Geeky week hon..
E.H>
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