NaPoWriMo 6


I lather a dime of shampoo
in swift revolutions around your head—
your hair, a mess of rotini pasta
bundled between my soapy hands.
I marvel at your dark curls—perfect,
especially the ones hiding
at the neck’s nape,
softer than light and water
and always turning away.

Never will your hair be
the difficult straw of your mother’s—
brittle and in need of relaxing.
Like a cyclone, your tresses
cannot be trained.
I pull a foam-covered strand,
let the tight helix wrap around
my finger; I get lost
in your rotation.


Jessie Carty said…
lovely Jan! Have a great time at AWP :)
Anonymous said…
i love this -- and the baseball one, too, which i read first. even though that one's a found poem and this one seems autobiographical, it makes a good coupling with this one, knowing you have a boy and a girl.

good quality drafts, my dear. flight agrees with you!
Heidi G said…
The imagery in the hair springs "ka-boing" and the ball snapping over home plate- a resounding "whooosh". Lovely and simply put.

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