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Henna
October 13, 2013
The cuff of my light winter jacket
brushes teasingly against my hand -
the rich golden brown paste,
arranged in a henna pattern,
feels cool against my skin.
The ladies told me to let the henna dry,
but the liquid paste squishes sickeningly,
collapsing under my starchy
cuff,
and just like that, a part of the henna
is irreversibly erased -
a curl here, a petal plucked from the flower -
those swirls of life that will
never see the sky.
I was never good at following directions.
© Treza R., Kalispell, MT
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This article has 2 comments.
fairygabby99 BRONZE said...
on Oct. 21 2013 at 1:04 pm
This poem is amazing! It really gives me an image.
19 articles 0 photos 14 comments