Self-Portrait

All the twirling twisted edges
of nature are gathered
in my body's silhouette-

my elbows the rough branches,
my forearms the roots, worn knotty and smooth
toes like waving fish gills, eyebrows like a rabbit's ear,
lips like a pitcher plant, wet and poison pink,
nails like sawdust, nibbled by goat pale teeth down
to the dusty quick.

The ridiculous pageantry of nature
has its million years of mutations
on parade in my circumstantial body.

But my hair...

my hair glancing with sunset,
spooling like copper,
washed free like gold in a stream
tossed over a white shoulder in frustration
tousled by men in moments of delirium, yes,
yes, my hair

is a jewel, an heirloom,
the only one I keep.