She felt my stare hard
enough in the seat in
front of me to turn
her black skin burning.
The twisted colors
kept me curious -
wondering if she wanted
to know what a silky swish
of swinging hair brushing
a bare shoulder felt like -
as much as I want to know
how a hundred braids
stay in a knot without
anything keeping the
ends from unraveling.
More than her braids I
envy the unhurried love
that handcrafted
this wearable art.
4 comments:
I love that you've come back from Glen with so many poems!
So many words want out. Thanks for being able to absorb the deluge.
wowzer...
you brought me along.
for some reason, i picture you on a tour bus; but, upon reflection, i think maybe you were likely at a literary session or something
4 1/2 hours on the plane. Poor girl. I was fascinated.
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