Brushed them back, tied smooth
by Lorene Kinsey
My normally wild hair, look
Today like a professional,
Boring, conforming, contradicting
All that is me just below
This generic exterior.
Each wants to capture this wild being,
Turn me into what each thinks
I should be, break and mold me.
But whether wild hair or straight,
shiny pink lips or dull,
She proclaims to a stranger my name,
Age and that I am “good looking”,
Then blushes when I ask about the incident.
Days later she compliments, my sweet bitty,
“mommy, you are p-r-e-t-t-y, pretty.”