Self-Portrait #1

This morning
my face was covered in hair.
I felt as if

I was
somehow more honest
in this feral state.

This afternoon
I shaved.
I watched my

hair fall to the
tile floor,

it felt like an autumn,
here in early spring.

Buried beneath my wilderness
was an also honest face I’d missed,
a me I’d known before.

I wish to be all of the forests
that I’ve grown
and laid rest to.

I suppose I’m walking through them
even now.


day #3 of #national poetry month | cover image: sensoryarthouse.com

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