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Hair Salon Processional
by Kristina Woodhillmost days
if it's not too cold
if it's not too hot
if road surface slick is slush
if bones are not overly rattling
old women come
those with money enough
those with time enough
those with hope still dangling from stretched ear lobes,
bold shades traced shakily around cracked lip lines
children once held in hand,
grown now,
guide mothers slowly in,
walkers and canes now in tow
an hour
weekly
rewinds time
gentle hands massage warm water
through needy scalps,
soap suds propagate and pop,
startling ears, still trying their darndest
count the curlers it takes
to turn back tomorrow's time thief;
wind, wind hard,
tension set against that scalp
itching for that old itch
betty seeking a younger twin
in rigid, hard-hearted mirrors
kathy shyly wanting to catch
one last sideways admiring glance
before sharp-edged scissors make
that final cut
02/18/2016 Posted on 02/18/2016
Copyright © 2025 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 02/19/16 at 11:40 PM A headicure that's all in the mind? This makes the editor's cut. |
| Posted by Anita Mac on 02/20/16 at 12:37 AM I love this. On the rare occasion that I make my way to the salon, I usually find one or two of these women. I think they are wonderful. This is a very skilled portrait of them.
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