SEPARATE and silk,
A scarf unwoven,
Thin enough to strain the sun,
Thick enough to keep a little of it
A little less brown the earth would be
If rain changed from silver to gold
Lean out anxiously over my forehead,
Trembling and giddy and falling
At the top of skyscraper me.
Cluster and curl at my neck
Conched and translucent mesh,
So timorous and yet travel-intentioned,
Tentatively adventuring on my neck and ears,
Or lightly pawing my cheek
Like a tenuous sea-creature
Affectionate and shy.
As if threaded through my body
And drawn out fine,
Here are the strands of my wind-loom,
Here is my torch to flicker and grow pale
But burn while it may,
Flame dimly down the tufted flesh
Furry and fringery cascade of all my body,
My body a bed under its ripple.
Hair
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