THE HAIRDRESSER

I sit in this filthy market square

as beaded sweat crawl on my brow

and fall on my face like tears

wondering

how my heart got crushed

by his elephant feet with no apologies

My dry fingers move swiftly

Unlike my swindled heart and mind

Braiding  corn-rows to live on.

Each time he ruffled my locks,

Erupted –a volcano in my tummy

I switch left and right to calm

My suckling straddled to my back

Wishing

I could unstrap myself from

the smooth lies he strangled

around my neck and forget the taste

he left in my mouth

I twist the hair like a maestro

as my soul mocks at my naivety

His tongue that told the sweet-bitter lies,

danced in my mouth a month and five years

My blood pumps not from love or hate

But  indifference

Which makes me recoil at the touch of a man.