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POEM: Oil in her hair

July 28, 2012

At Sunday Poetry at Ellington’s, the theme for the open mic was Mother Earth. Usually my writing process is kinda unorthodox. I write in trees. I’m inspired by nature, I climb down, type up my goods onto a laptop and then edit in stabs in the wee hours of the night. For my poetry, when I get to writing, I never really know what the poem is going to be about. Writing a poem about nature, of which I’ve done many times, but knowing it was going to be about nature was an new experience for me. This is still rough, but I trust you, blog family. Let me know what you think, looking for some criticism. Thanks!

o

oil in her hair [working title]

o

do you dare to stare

at the girl with oil in her hair?

 o

black slick rolls off her locks

its thick chokes  and blocks the follicles

magnified the molecule of fossil fuel

dead corpses of algae and zooplankton

under heat and pressure and rock

 o

she stands in shock,

oil drops from her head as dead

fish float to the surface

in a riverbed of black

 o

streaks that leave a track of oil

gathering at the small of her back, broken from

bending and mending, her attempt at tending to

the water’s dark ooze,

bent double, oil refuses to clear

and still she scoops away oil

and hopes it will disappear

o

do you dare to stare

at the girl with the black streaks

along her cheeks, oil that collect

at the very peaks of her eyelashes

 o

it runs down her arms, drips off fingertips

and alarms the soil beneath her

oil splashes into the earth, bleeding into the turf

touching roots of trees soon to grow black oily leaves

 o

do you dare to stare

to stare at the girl with

the oil in her hair

the girl who can’t bare the smell

on her own skin, to tell

anyone impossible, her lips glossy in oil

her throat gargles oil

she cries in oil

she’s stuck in oil

she will die in oil

 o

and desperately, so desperately

she yearns to wash out the oil in her hair

she’s frantic for water, but it’s no longer there.

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