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by Rhyssa Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2057956
my most distinguished feature
I was born with it,
a cap—
soft and dark
as feathers on a baby bird.

the sunlight gives it fire,
reds comingled with the brown—
there are streaks of grey now,
framing my face
with the caress of moonlight.

it grew with me,
a plume
protruding from a warrior’s helm,
twisting down me
so long—
a security blanket.

I tucked it in my pants
with my shirt,
and when I tossed my head,
it whipped about,
the momentum of a scorpion’s sting
striking without warning.

I cut it—
it springs into a nest of curls,
that tickles the edges of my sight.
I pull at it,
measuring it’s length against
the end of my nose,
and I giggle,
cross-eyed—
happy.

line count: 30

author's note: it is my hair.

Prompt
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