More peace than politics, forgo the heat
and hostile alkali for what curls itself out of me
dense as the hardwood, as the closed and tense
fist, or better, a lung, so full of air it’s floating.
How keratin could become cathedral bell,
a reason to gather untangling fingers to
mine a new and harder self out of follicle’s
offerings. There is so much space inside the word
“hair,” that proceeds with breath and leaves
a rounded, open mouth. How my hair, when free
holds atmosphere inside of it. Less trap than
trove, in case my breath is forgotten or worse,
Published online May 23 2017.
Chimwemwe Undi is a poet currently living in Toronto. Her work has been on the stages of the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word and the Edinburgh International Book Festival, and on pages of Prairie Fire, Room and other generous publications.