I was such a beautiful child,
With my shoulder lengths of
Sun bleached barley.

Smiled little pearl soldiers in
Line. Old glassesless ladies
Took me for
Girlchild.

But I grew twisted like an
Appletree around a
Graveyard path
Lightpost.

Teeth came out crooked.
Hair fell out at thirteen.
I was big for my age;
Grew other hair in places
I never knew I would.

My voice broke as if in
Sorrow over the child
Inside that had
Died. After that I spoke as if
Into a bucket.

Sometimes I catch my father
Gazing at me through a slight veil
Of grievance for that same
Child.

I would never dream
To blame him.