1.30.2015

oh my god, how you pronounce the word "through," and i don't know what I'm imagining, but i feel you saying "true"-- it's like singing to drake, "come through, girl; you deserve rounds tonight," but hearing "come true"

i thought once to grow my hair because of this condition to aspire for a gown of the life long kind, societal negotiation of supply & demand of the fairy tale kind. a good bride has a good braid. when my first love hurt me, i cut my hair in the bathroom. i tamed to grow it. only to find the little girl inside my body, snipping chunks of her fine baby hair to my jaw line alone in the bathroom again. i cut my silk every time i want to weep. it is the only thing you have, to shed & sever, and it always comes back to you. 

1.28.2015

My drive home
from an unsteady heart
gives me time
to think after my work is done
who will wash my dead body?

This thought makes me cry
from the belly, but I can't
lose sight of the road