The Green Comb
My mother sets me free.
When I run in Greek air or when I try on my big sister’s clothes
She smiles a black and white smile.
But now she is behind my back
Untangling the knots that transform lines
Into curves and question marks.
“Sit up straight.” My mouth stays shut.
Straight teeth bite into patches of matted hair.
I yelp and shriek as my mom robs me of my knots.
They are mine! I made them!
Badges and ribbons for my hard play,
Surprise trophies handed to me through my adventures.
I crawl between static branches in blanket tunnels.
As I tumbled away from clawed pillow case hands,
My hair lumps together like a tight hug.
I make bike tires buzz and the wind snatches my hair back like a bad friend
Mother nature tied these knots yesterday,
They want to grow with me.
My birth mother chops through laced hair
And I feel myself getting smaller.
But at the end
Of my tears and thoughts
About how much dirt tumbles through wired hair
I know I’ll get a bow.