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,