Straight wiry straw,
Curly tendrils,
Wild frizz,
Soft-spoken waves.
In winter
It cracks, becomes
Rough and dry
Shrieking for moistrue.
In summer
It poufs like a squealing
Jack-in-the-box.
Sometimes it shoots like an arrow from your
head,
Or droops below your chin
Clinging to your shoulders.
Possibly it crawls down your arms
Escapes the length
of your back
Creeping toward the Earth
Consuming the skin,
Nestling on the ground between
Your toes.
Blazing auburn wisps,
Genuine gold tresses,
Intense russet locks,
Electrifying black tufts-
Or
Maybe just an
Untamable mane.
-Winter D'Angelillo
April 26th, 2004
