A Mess

I want
To be unruly
Unkempt and unyielding
Like my daughter’s hair
In the morning
A mess of matted tendrils
From sweat and tossing
Turning with fevered dreams
Nightmarish scenes
Unable to be straightened out
Or worked through without ripping
Some bit of screaming
Cursing the task at hand
“Damn you”
“Fuck you” even
Leave me alone
Let me be matted and messy
All parts of me tangled
With and caught in each other
Perhaps today
I will not untangle myself but leave
The strands of me in shambles
Smelling of tortured sleep
Looking like hell
And hurling defiance
At the world


Hair Jaclyn ConleyUntitled painting by Jaclyn Conley

~ by April on September 15, 2014.

8 Responses to “A Mess”

  1. Somehow magnificent

  2. ‘Oh’, I said to my own eyes as I read this, ‘I’ve just got to share this with April’; how uncanny when such distinct pieces of work nevertheless entangle:


    • Thank you for sharing. That was a wonderful poem. I felt like I was right there with her. I commented also on your site. It seems we women, and I am sure some men, have quite a relationship with hair. It is a metaphor for so many things. Thanks, as always, for reading. I am glad that you do.

      • I’ll let you into a [blog-world] secret: even though I have been bald since my late twenties, I am currently growing my hair long down the back until I haven’t got the nerve to do it anymore – it is a true mid-life crisis mullet, but I just want to do it and I’m glad to say I’m persisting with it even though NO ONE likes it; I’ll let you know when I cave

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