WHAT'S SO VERY WILD IN SHE
THAT MAKES YOU SCREAM ALONG
HER HAIR?
her Hairshe grew wild
until it enshrined her
shrouded her
like a nun
draped to the ankles
in Hair
enough to bury
the clouded iris
of her right eye
to splay
around her navel moon
Hair to hide
the grey lines
on her spine
where her twin
had been
peeled off
at birth
Hair she
could lower
like rope from a tower
and then reel back up
from the skein of shadows
Hair falling over
naked faces
as a new set of hands
felt her scalp
each night
before letting go.
Hair mingled
with the fingers
of tree leaves
traced window eaves,
embraced chimneys
and wooden fence posts
and the masts of boats
tied at the shoreline
Hair spread
across the water
like a dew borne web
a tight spun net
she caught everything in—
a blue bottle
a sliver from an oar
a hand from
what had probably been
a mannequin
a rusted license plate from california
the weight of it wet
drew her head to the window
as if for air, drew
her raw body through
and dragged it
through the streets
and through the fields
and through the streams
and to the sea
where splinters of Hair
still floated
flinching
before the moon's
many
scarred
face.
a l l i s o n d e f r e e s e
l a w r e n c e , k a n s a s
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