when that shy
strand of hair
trembles out of
your skin.
slowly

ashamed of its
wanton birth.  

thinking it's an
'unwanted' curse
you're plagued
with, making it
your shame,
a pariah you must
deal with. thinking,
why on a man, i confirm his
manhood for a world revolving
in binaries. but, for a
woman all i am is a furtive indignity.

i want you to
caress it's roots, and
whisper to them-
           i will never let your
           birth go in vain by
           obliterating you
           to satiate howling
           bellies of hollow
           skeletons floating
           around seeking young
           flesh to feast upon.

i will honour you and if i may
choose to live without you.

i'll do that under no obligation
from a world assessing my
worth from the
arch of my hips.
or the
color of my skin.