a woman precedes me up the long rope. <br />her dangling braids the color of rain. <br />maybe i should have had braids. <br />maybe i should have kept the body i started, <br />slim and possible as a boy's bone. <br />maybe i should have wanted less. <br />maybe i should have ignored the bowl in me <br />burning to be filled. <br />maybe i should have wanted less. <br />the woman passes the notch in the rope <br />marked Sixty. I rise toward it, struggling, <br />hand over hungry hand.<br /><br />Lucille Clifton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/climbing/
