Nana Ollerenshaw: Toothpick Woman
Toothpick Woman
The toothpick woman
left no footprints.
She ran in the shower
to get wet,
knitted herself into a scarf
before she pulled her body out.
Even a sneeze would make enough breeze
to knock her about.
People often thought
she wasn’t there.
She missed herself in the mirror
when she combed her hair.
At night her blanket hardly rose
above her nose.
But toothpick woman changed,
put on a little fat to fill her body in.
She cast a shadow now,
claimed a third dimension,
gloried to see a roundness
underneath her skin.
In her mind a fire burned
zeal and hope returned.
No one could guess
In the strangeness of her seasons
such exultation
for so small a reason.
Nana Ollerenshaw
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