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Medusa And Other Angels MAG
There ain't a cross
big enough to bare
the burden of my hair.
This weedy garden
of moss and dandelions
sometimes falling down
and around my face
like a halo of onyx stones
or a crown of thorns.
My hair is so alive
you won't find it in the Louvre.
I let it sleep under my hat
until my museum opens up.
The Museum of Natural History
then it runs wild like Medusa
through its halls.
My hair tells tall tales.
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