So little hair is there! Within reside
great pompadours of hair, French braids, chignons,
neat powdered queues, full-bottomed periwigs,
and baby curls in rose and azure ribbon.
While outside, here and there begin the hairs
to sprout and businesslike to grow and curl,
but strayed from up to down--on chin, pure white,
but dark beneath the nose--pursued and tweezed.
Recall how Caesar shaved, plucked hair by hair--
painful necessity! The Roman relish
for anyone's discomfort, yours or mine,
we must adopt. Rue hair, remember Rome.
(By JRC 4/16-17/08)
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
An Old Head
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 11:36 AM
Labels: hair, Poems by me
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