cornrows
~
~
cornrows
~
at the first rustle
of shadow on skin
I wake beside him
~
I slide from the bed
flip the latch, climb through
the window, he will
be angry
the thought delights me
~
I cross to the cornfield
silken rows of ribbon
higher than my head
an army, khaki-clad
could march here
one row over
and we could all
have solitude
~
I shift rows
suddenly
catch a glimpse
of tassels
chevrons
boot heels
click into the next row
ribbons quiver
~
takes nine minutes
to find a cornrow
north to south
leads back to the house
I cross the yard
pause on the threshold
I hesitate
a stranger
~
the cornstalks whisper
~
I raise my fist
hammer on the door
~
~
Published as: ‘cornrows’, Spring 2013, The Antigonish Review 173
~
~
Copyright 2013 Jane Tims
nichepoetryandprose 
I loved this poem the first time I heard you read it. Thanks for sharing it again. I appreciate the beauty and rhythm, the images and eerie sense of foreboding in this.
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Carol Steel
November 11, 2013 at 8:29 am
Hi Carol. Thanks. This poem is an amalgamation of several memories of walking in cornrows. I am going to try and post more of my poetry. Now I am on a getting ready for Christmas jag so I may never regularize! Jane
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jane tims
November 11, 2013 at 10:10 am