The Braid

     Why do you resist me?
the man asks. The woman braids
   her hair.

     He touches her shoulder,
the small of her back. It's good
   for you

     to trust me, he says.
The woman frowns at her
   reflection.

     Slowly she unweaves
the braid, lifts her hair,
   begins again.

This poem was posted sometime ago at qarrtsiluni; they ask that you wait awhile before posting it to your own blog -- so here it is.

I just found Poem Road this morning -- another fun project to play with!