OPEN-BRAIN SURGERY

on braiding hair.

three strands split: loop first then second then third

all down your honey head like a waltz

i know every step and misstep to

who's on the radio? i looove this song–

my fingernails are dancing in their fancy shoes

a fresh coat of

black marker

called nail polish

my hands are scrubbed dry from dishes and things written in pencil

and from walking on them when my feet get tired

but they are smoothed over again by

a trusted concoction: the lotion i slathered on them (the one i stole from mama's purse) that smells like

how a good memory feels plus

cold cold sweat plus

the warmth of all the pretty stuff growing

upwards from your skull. these candy-colored things, winding around each other like

vines on the walls of every garden in eden. a place where even

you and i

and all the others

can be holy.

i'm trying to show you just how holy

things could be. 

•

the girl i wrote this about is so beautiful i saw her this morning she has beautiful blond hair and she's a cancer and she's smart and lovely <33 throwback to november of last year when i actually felt emotion <33