January 20, 2010 § 9 Comments
- A brief trip into my unconscious (not worked much, just dumped):
Last night I had a nightmare –
my hair was freshly dyed and swung
in a charcoal bob beneath my chin.
Straight and sleek as a seal’s,
it was nothing like my own.
I cried and checked the mirror
every time I could, as I ran from
room to room trying to find myself.
But each reflection was the same,
and soon I saw the worst: rusty roots
where my fingers had not reached
my scalp. Not even silver, I thought.
All these years and not one silver thread remains.