With hair that appears red in the sun,
she has
Atlantic eyes with black lashes.
She’ll hum while you’re talking to her.

She self-soothes—
don’t take it personally.
She bites her nails,
her skin’s spotted like sand,
and bottom teeth are crossed.

She throws back her head and cackles,
neck mole exposed, off center.
With her small hands, she can’t open cans,
but she admires
her ugly fingers.

Beautiful singers.

At her rented apartment
on an otherwise tree-lined street,
she will write with a pencil
the secret words
caught in her throat.

She self-soothes—
don’t take it personally.
She bites her nails,
her skin’s spotted like sand,
and bottom teeth are crossed.

She throws back her head and cackles,
neck mole exposed, off center.
With her small hands, she can’t open cans,
but she admires
her ugly fingers.

Beautiful singers.