Six hundred and thirteen knots
hung around my head like mosquitoes,
a veil marking holiness, with blessings
sewn in blue thread: Blessed are you, universe,
blessed are your braids, that hang down a back
in shades of brown (coffee, caramel,
timberland boot tan) the colors found
in ironed streaks to be woven
into tender heads. The colors
tied in a cast down the arms of women:
"Scarves for sale", feathers for sale
from these migrant birds,
soft and heavy on their wings
that spread wide in display
until police come and they run like pigeons
from the foot of a child,
fringes scattering around the corner.
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