Tuesday, 22 August 2017

I wear my hair
like a veil
covering all.
Covering all that
is not already covered
and needs to be,
they insist.
But it is not enough.
I can still see
when it parts
and still be seen.
I can still move
It is not enough,
they insist.
I need the mask
of the broad, blue
to tether me,
they insist.
And I wonder,
will this be enough?
The Big Book Of Poetry

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