Like a curtain my straightened hair hides

me in its second act

Covering the understudy

set to take my place.

A performance of me, who is not me,

body dressed up and acting.

In the pews,

Ma, and Pop, waiting to be proud

accomplishments I claim, but reject.

Afraid I didn’t earn

how I am seen to a crowd.

My hair curls to

humidity that

chases a curtain call.

I bend at the spine with a smile