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  • Elvira Taku

My Daughter and I

Rough hair,

That was rooted in her,

Self hatred.

Twisted and tangled in knots,

As my comb,

Tugged against and teared through

Clumps of hair.

Her face scowling.

Diligently and purposefully,

I separated the kinky mass,

Into sections.

Masterfully weaving,

1st cross,

2nd cross,

3rd cross,


The ache

In my back,


The ache

On her scalp.

My cool breath

Soothing her,

Her bright smile,

Soothing me.

1st cross,

2nd cross,

3rd cross,


My hands maniacally and mechanically,

Moving down strand,

After strand.

She stirred.


With her hand.

A tear,

Streaming down her face,

Seeping through my lips.

1st cross,

2nd cross,

3rd cross.


My fingertips


Against her

Tear stained cheek.

“4 left”

I groaned.

Her hand

Reaching up

To touch the remainder.

A smile.

Creeping across her face.


Sweet relief,

For us both.

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