Green Hills Literary Lantern

 

 

Color

 

 

 

In the salon, a woman’s head is being rubbed with lavender foam.

Her legs stick out under the cape,

identical to those of the woman next to her, veined and putty-like.

Old lady day here. It always is.

Something to do, it seems, go to the salon and have your hair done.

Hers so white it’s translucent underwater; her crown looks bald.

At the doctor’s, everyone asks, You still having periods?

The gynecologist says, You aren’t the oldest. I have a patient,

didn’t go into menopause until sixty.

My hairdresser says, That boy giving you gray hairs,

asks if it’s time to talk about color.

When I’ve projected into the future,

I’ve seen myself with shoulder-length white hair.

I tell her I haven’t made up my mind.

You’ll have to make a decision soon, she says.

You know, so it won’t be obvious.

I admit I hadn’t thought of that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alison Hicks is the author of Kiss, a poetry collection; Falling Dreams, a chapbook; Love: A Story of Images, a novella; and Prompted, an anthology. A new poetry collection, You Who Took the Boat Out, is forthcoming from Unsolicited Press. Her work has appeared in Eclipse, Fifth Wednesday, Gargoyle, Louisville Review, Passager, Permafrost, Sanskrit, Whiskey Island, and other journals. She is founder of Greater Philadelphia Wordshop Studio, which offers community-based writing workshops.