Abolish Sonnets n.10

When roses die they dry black. I’ll keep the,

Dead like I keep damaged ends. The smell of,

Rain on pressed hair. I deny the uncurled.

Don’t dwell on tight braid related bald spots.

There’s bad juju at the hair studio,

And the misanthrope wants to get married.

My crown is like a uniform. Plaid,

Beads, toxic weaves buried in the brain meat.

The soft animal part of the state ought,

To repent before more people get lynched.

Computers cough up the same water I,

Wash in. Pollutants can be stored in hair.

To save flowers, dip them in wax. The stems,

Will go brown then get brittle. Next lilacs.