Tiny Sun

By MARGOT DOUAIHY

I always hide behind my hair, even when I don’t have hair. I disappeared
inside my shaved head, identity de facto of college, coming out. Camouflaged
in plain sight, a faux reveal, ersatz openness of skin & neck. But the locks
grew back, as confused as I was. I keep inventing new ways to duck: my long
hair & manicure, kitten heels & denim skirts. At the Cherry Tavern, a frat
boy barked when I refused his drink: “But you don’t look gay.” Describing
me to a new friend, my mom called me a lollipop lesbian. “Sorry, I meant
lipstick!” What if there were infinite ways to be at ease—each one surpris-
ing? Thirty spokes join together, but it is the empty center that allows the
wheel to roll. What is Earth but a rock spinning on ice? Gravity’s just a
high-wire walk. To x-ray joy reveals a tug-of-war between crying & laughing,
because all things end. Look at the delicate skin of the quarterback, his thin
fingers as he passes. How lithe is the woman with her blond hair, holding
a hammer like she invented it. Don’t we all inherit hot & cold, January &
June, a comet & moon? Even now as it roars the rain holds light—
so bright—as if a tiny sun burned in each drop.

Margot Douaihy is the author of the forthcoming book Girls Like You (Clemson University Press, 2015) and I Would Ruby If I Could. Her writing and interviews have been featured in The Sow’s Ear Review, The Madison Review, The Moth, Belle Reve Literary Journal, The Catamaran Literary Reader, and The New Guard Literary Reviewwww.margotdouaihy.com

[Purchase your copy of Issue 09 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Tiny Sun

Related Posts

Image of a tomato seedling

Talks with the Besieged: Documentary Poetry from Occupied Ukraine  

ALEX AVERBUCH
Russians are already in Starobilsk / what nonsense / Dmytrovka and Zhukivka – who is there? / half a hundred bears went past in the / direction of Oleksiivka / write more clearly / what’s the situation in Novoaidar? / the bridge by café Natalie got blown up / according to unconfirmed reports

A Tour of America

MORIEL ROTHMAN-ZECHER
This afternoon I am well, thank you. / Walking down Main Street in Danville, KY. / The heavy wind so sensuous. / Last night I fell- / ated four different men back in / Philadelphia season lush and slippery / with time and leaves. / Keep your eyes to yourself, yid. / As a kid, I pledged only to engage / in onanism on special holidays.

cover for "True Mistakes" by Lena Moses-Schmitt

Giving the Poem a Body: Megan Pinto interviews Lena Moses-Schmitt

LENA MOSES-SCHMITT
I think sometimes movement can be used to show how thought is made manifest outside the body. And also just more generally: when you leave the house, when you are walking, your thoughts change because your environment changes, and your body is changing. Moving is a way of your consciousness interacting with the world.