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BIG HAIR
by Gloria g. Murray
I think this is a poem about hair
or maybe
it is a poem about wanting
a kind of beauty
you can never have
to hide my face
I grow big hair
thick, dark, wild, curly hair
hair that cannot be tamed
by a curling iron or hot dog rollers
when I cut it
it looks flat to me
like the world
before it was discovered
and my face a window
without shade or curtains
silvery grays appear and I know
I shall never be a classic beauty
like the oriental ladies
with hair sleek and inky black
or the blonde California girls
with strands tucked behind
small ears bearing
three gold studs in a row
I will grow hair like Whitman's beard
it will cover me like cotton candy
the wind will not
run its fingers through it
birds will nest and bees
in a frenzy, swarm
I do not think this is a poem about hair
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