braids

she braids her heritage, triplet rivers of blood

france germany scotland, all united within her

german floats off her tongue, but her name is french

and the names of her ancestors are scottish

french and dutch but no german braids

her cousin wallows in the french language

but bonjour never sounds right on her lips

she prefers guten morgen or perhaps hallo

tonight she twists her hair into lace braids

leaves holes for her soul to escape through

she dreams of ridding herself of the past

it’s far far away now untouchable

she takes her failures and laces them through

her hair, over under over under left right left right

drapes feathers into the melted chocolate

the birds leave her gifts, but she steals from them