There is a brief hourbefore I cover the nakedness of my headwhen I am myself alone, the anglesof my face strange and warpedin the mirror. I don’t recognizewho I am without the camouflageof a wig anymore. I touch her hair,I am wooed by the softness of whatwas grown for me by another host,something dead still mergingme with another—the one who wasmy surrogate, eating in a different room,wrapping her newly bare skullwith a printed cloth. I dress in darkness, thenstitch another woman to my body.
Sonnet for Her
Kara van de Graaf
Feature Date
- December 8, 2023
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Copyright © 2023 by Kara van de Graaf.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.
Summer 2023
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Louisiana State University
Co-Editor & Poetry Editor
Jessica Faust
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