by Christopher Woods
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| Shutterstock file photo |
In her mind is the locket
She thinks about so much.
Inside it, wrapped in blue ribbon,
A single strand of black hair.
Her firstborn.
She can’t stop thinking about it,
That hair, how it would be
To see it again, how she might hold it,
Go back to the house
That disappeared
When the bombing began.
If she could know this hair again
Her memory might rest.
But she won’t open the locket.
She can’t.
Maybe it’s been too long,
The hair might dissolve in the air.
Maybe birds would carry it away.
No matter how much she wants to
She will not open the locket.
She keeps it hidden,
Safe in a drawer, in a room,
Inside a house on a small road,
In a dusty village that no longer exists.
Christopher Woods is a writer and photographer who lives in Texas. His monologue show Twelve from Texas was performed in NYC by Equity Library Theatre. His monologues have also been performed at The Invisible Theatre in Tucson and the Pro English Theatre in Kiev, Ukraine. He has received residencies from The Edward Albee Foundation and The Ucross Foundation.
