Question Marks In Her Hair
A walk with Dad
And when she had spent the entire afternoon
painting her tiny nails,
The floor was left blotted;
A sweet smell of varnish
Hung in the air for a long time:
Dad took her out
And taught her
Not to pluck flowers
But to pick question marks —
The question marks she decided
To adorn her hair with,
Because she liked them;
They revealed mysteries to her
most of the world hadn’t known.
She wore those ‘whys’
Like a secret talisman
For it was known to upset the herd.
“Pretty little girls don’t ask so many questions…”, they would convince her.
“But why? Would growing up change things?”, she’d think.
“Good, gracious women needn’t use too many question marks…”, they would again be at her.
“But why? Do questions evoke fear?”, she’d think.
While on the walk,
She was counting the stars;
Dad had prodded her on —
“Dear, you’d need a gallon of dare”
She picked each question mark
And put them in her hair!
NV©
