Why I Let You Brush My Hair

With every brush,
the metal teeth scraped my scalp.
It was a brush made for dogs, not humans,
but you didn’t know
and so I kept quiet.

My hair clung to my head
wet & heavy,
and while you combed through the knots I cringed.

But I let you do it
because you were my father,
and because neither of us knew what that meant.

Alexia Avina

This poem was shortlisted for The Poems Please Me Prize 2015

Alexia’s music page on Facebook is www.facebook.com/sylviealma?ref=hl