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She Wore It As A Tilt Hat Ought To Be Worn

Someone stuck it atop her head

And told her it was how it should look She swallowed their words

Like greens that are good for you.

She half decided it was vogue

So, on a half-thought, she bought it

It was waxy like a navy blue candle

With two pie-sized pin stripes

Darting like menos and banding the crown-

She wore it like a tilt hat ought to be worn, Confidently. Instead of the by and by niceties

A contrary sentiment, and that alone dedicated:

A weird little hat, like the House of Stuart.

No lickspittle there, instead one with loose hinges

And spinning machinery in need of no oil.

She checked all of her usual pockets for pride

And found the contusion just surfaced her scalp.

Doubts deluged the decks of her mind:

Was her confidence a cloud that could bear no weight?

Which source of the two could be trusted?

Was the pleasant or wounding response the right?

Was the first affirmation less than a compliment and

The contradiction, an endearment just impolite?

Some words cross blades with other words,

Some steel is ore and hard

And some swords break other swords-

Words break words

And some words break even though they swore

People break on what they trust more

And decide from what they want, and what they’ve heard.

She could have put it in a cheese box,

Rolled it down a pier to meet the bay

But she stored it in the peak of her closet

She tilted her feet on the day of her choosing,

Because she believed her hat wasn’t half bad.

She put it on in front of a mirror

Pursed her lips and posed

If the glass was lying: she wasn’t listening

She liked the hat and wore it once more

She wore it as a tilt hat ought to be worn,


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