Poisoned

by Linda M. Crate

Stubborn hairs of years past
cling to me in my weakest
moments, sometimes I like to
think that you think of me –
yet I would be surprised to hear
if you did; I’d like to shave
you away from me like my legs –
yet like those persistent blights
you’d grow back into some other
strand of me; I wish that you
would set me free, it’s the only
fair thing to do in situations such
as these, and yet I know I’ll
always be prisoner to these horrors
that wash over me in soft waves
of paralyzing and noxious poison.