Wednesday, March 7, 2018

On the Birthday of My Mother’s Death Valentine

The hair taken from one head
To pull down vanity is given
To another to restore it
 
The belief our bodies are not beautiful
But oppressive
And need perfecting
 
But not in the way it’s taken
Do we assemble
A new body
 
A blending of all the bodies
So we all face the same beauty
In one another
 
This one’s eyes
And this one’s hands
What the soul has made

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