a letter that turned into a poem

cornered
your pants down
while from your mouth, pain
ricochets
from the wall to the mirror to your second son to me
like khet
with the eye of horus
splitting your 84 years of shit into angry lasers


no longer will i
after 5 pm
endure the bombardment of
vodka-laced two-way tasers
killing
your anubis

Givingthanks

Most days, I wake up, head directly downstairs, and make coffee. After my cup is poured, I carry it upstairs, throw on some clothes, and pull my hair back into a pony tail. I might brush on some blush, or don some jewelry, but preparing for my day is certainly not slow and deliberate. Getting ready in the morning is a chore. It doesn't help that I really, really hate to get out of bed. Sometimes I wish I could just go to sleep in my clothes; it would make mornings that much easier. No one loves Pajama Day at LSV better than me!

But today, I took the time to take care of myself. While prepping and primping, I realized that I am thankful for:

semi-eyebrows
eyebrow pencils
eyebrow pencil sharpeners

eyelashes
mascara
q-tips

body hair
Quattro razors
warm water

head hair
hair brushes
cute barrettes

Yup, this Thanksgiving, I'm grateful that I am hairy. I'm grateful for all the things I can do to my hair. I'm grateful, even, for the fact that I can remove it.
If I so choose.