Everyone loves her shiny auburn hair
I accept the compliments as if I made it that way
In my wildest dreams I never imagined I’d be washing a mermaid in my tub
Waves so thick it feels like combing through a wig, a life-size barbie head
Brushing a daughter’s hair is a secret mode of communication
We tug against each other as hard as our days were
We have no new words to say to each other at this time of the night
I drag the brush through and we are connected until she pulls away
We are our most mammal selves in this position, a mama grooming her young
I start out rough and rush through the tangles, victimized by the effort of bedtime
Most nights someone has to incite violence before we can find our way to calm
She sits still to feel her mother’s hands in her hair, swiftly turning smooth and glassy
Both of us healed by the rise and fall of the brush
READING: Too Much Happiness, Alice Munro
WATCHED: Hacks, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,
Thanks to my friends at Foster for their support in bringing this to life.