The Sand Hill Review                           http://www.sandhillreview.org              2004

 

Red Hair

           

A clutch of Japanese adolescents

wait for a bus––

In five o'clock light,

seven, six, five,

each with hair bleached rust

taking up the sun

so that they become

a small orange furred

herd of lithe limbed

animals. 

 

The bus will come, of course

it will come and if not, what an

adventure, a cab, a hike, a

jaywalking spree into the

blueing evening. Brief,

the slender arms and legs,

brief, the opening, the taut

eyeskin, the ease of the body,

swinging, swinging.  We

were like that once, fussing

about elbows and

Pittsburgh skin, dark hair

in a world of Marilyns.

 

We were effortlessly unhappy

waiting for our breasts to grow,

believing the packages, Wheat

and Honey Blond, exposing

the limits of peroxide––the red

of salted cars, a glaring

example of the potency of chemistry.

The rules for appeal so limited,

most need not apply.

Bones, my mother said,

ironing board, chicken breasted

she said with me in front of the mirror,

straight up and down she clucked.

The Concentration Camp Kid,

she told the others.

 

To be young is to be aswoon

where symmetry's the only

god, the soul's beauty

a pathetic fallacy.

Bones––I was an antelope

leaping through tall grasses.

I was the mannequin

for a drape of calico,

feet light upon the earth,

hair deep chocolate,

funny colored eyes,

the sea.

 

We stood there at the top

of the highway in your

mother's gowns and

pots of make-up waving

like parading  movie stars,

stays making our dresses

stand up for attention.

Skinny clowns in too big

clothes, the boys hooting,

leaning on their horns, knowing

sex was growing, a

fat waxy bud at the

coccyx of our spines.

 

In the persimmon afternoon,

the last days of freedom before

the plaid and shame of school, we

were defiant in the face of Hollywood

and flesh, our plastic bracelets

really gold and gleaming, the sun lining

our heads with amber halos.  Angels

of defiance in loose high heels and

clip-on rhinestones, our teeth made white

with Cherries in the Snow.  Oh,

our spirits were silver flags waving

and we were stepping out, were stepping

out, to find a baby all our own. 

 

On the day before they shut us in

for winter, we were women, we

were catches.  We were beautiful 

and gleaming.

 

JCWatson