The Makeover – A Breakup Ritual
by Ama Danesi
Does my face hiss like a repellent, will another walk away?
One fizzled without reason, another from pity or naiveté
described the shroud, darkness over his loins and my face.
Shunted, his quiver melted, the promise puddled.
His last embrace, like a scorpion’s segmented tail, hurtful.
Take me to Asiya, teach me about a lover’s face,
douse me in herbal steam & incant loudly to chase
the ugly away & buff the crust of hurt from
the charred sun-burn on my heart,
the etched path of tears to my dimples.
Take me to Asiya, behind faded blue walls,
in white garments, and rust-colored beads,
from eyes sunken, reveal what deviance ails us.
Healer, have I been so wicked in this life
that my face darkens like that of a bear?
Daughter, the unwise chase the sly sun moving east.
Seeking a slate unburdened by history and familiar hurt.
They cannot see you – easier to walk away and watch as
you blaze beyond comprehension among the stars.
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