She..
July 12, 2011
I am taking a poetry-writing course online, so I’m afraid I have to punish you with what is produced. The first assignment was to write an autobiographical poem, and I did so in between classes today.
Slipping through angled, golden-skinned streets,
She is pink-hipped, wide-haired,
foreign.
Her heart spins stories of
salted shorelines and bearded men
even as she holds silver chopsticks
in her surprising,
small hands.
Shelley Scribbles 
“pink-hipped” is genius.