never removed her clothes in the light
posed for the flash
glaring at all the lines
shaping her make
she never
showed you the way in
to the deepest part
nor left behind a key
beneath the mat
kept herself tightly wound
measuring time in metronome
within a book within a comb within
a ball of yarn
played with but never
didn’t tell you the truth when you asked her
to reveal secrets
she told you of the stars and moon sprung apart in divinity
and let you believe
she’d told you who
she was
and when
you saw her cut her hair
scythe slicing history in swath
long tresses falling like fingers down a drain
following the passage of tears and footsteps
taken to stand here
you asked her
and she looked at you
with her shorn face and her
sharp eyes smudged with doubt
and said
didn’t you see my nudity?
didn’t you see me crying?
behind my hair all these years?