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The Navigator
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The Navigator Keisha Was the kind of girl who left lights on. Who walked into walls – Spilled her smile down the shrug of her shirt Stumbled into furniture Like it was her future. Never did quite fit her body. Clumsy. Keisha! Will you look where you’re going! Well She knew where she was going alright Just didn’t much appreciate the view Didn’t much appreciate the navigator Started to seek alternative routes. For a clumsy girl She has a steady hand. She has sketched a map of herself On skin stretched tight as fathers’ fists Tracing the long walk home On the back of her hand Inner arm Wrist. 52 Lines of latitude and longitude. She scratches herself. A 13 year itch She scratches herself. Thin. Red. Mother. Lips. Rattles the bars of her rib cage And marks off the days Until she is 16 When she will draw a thin red line through her skin Proof marks in the margin of her life And she will Begin Again. Because When he opened the pages of her blouse like it was a well-read book He changed the story – Half-written first draft. Keisha has her name engraved in gilt Along the stutter of her spine Keisha Volume One Underlined But When he did that thing And that thing did her Keisha ceiling clinging Realised the possibilities Because if he could change the story Erase the topography Half way through Then. So. Could. She. 53 [18.221.187.121] Project MUSE (2024-04-17 22:13 GMT) Today Keisha Is the kind of girl who walks upright Who walks in spite Who carries full friendships in the pockets of her favourite jeans Who travels her body like an unexplored land Because today Keisha is the kind of girl who is Frankly A Woman. 54 ...