Don’t Let the Jurors Confine You
You display yourself in blacks and whites.
Your hair confined to the tightest bun,
No fly-aways, just sleek and still;
You flaunt your flats as your highlights,
the ordinary as your pearls,
Trying to blend in.
It’s a show: straight lines,
Bold cut, heavenly form;
I know you better than that.
I see the longing in your body:
The rough tangles, the tight-knit hair,
The compressed skin, exploding,
Flying out in a fury to be free,
Reaching every which way
To escape the governing, drab lines.
No more masks, no shields; be you:
Embrace your bewitching curves,
Revel in seductive shadow.
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