She said that my hair
had turned the moon to ash
as if it were hers, a pet cat
mute in the silent sky.
What she meant was
that I had the wrong face
and the wrong voice, always
wandering from its glass case.
I slipped the crescent moon
through my hair like a garland,
then grew it long and wild,
my name at the root and the far ends.
________
for What's Going On? --"Hair"
Superb writing. So harsh to have someone think one has the wrong face. I had some of that growing up. I love the closing stanza. In the end, we are all we were meant to be and that says something about us, my friend.
ReplyDeleteNo one is meant to stay in a glass case, for sure. Happy she made the moon (and hair and face) her own, despite "la Madre Diabólica." I love "a pet cat mute in the silent sky." I'm so glad you wrote to this prompt, Shay!
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