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Daron Hagen / Washing her hair


Washing her hair  lyrics by Sarah Gorham

She stood over the tub,
her back naked, spine rising
to her scalp like a child’s set of beads.

I lathered her thin, dark hair,
rinsed it, watched it clump in the drain.

Foliage hung in the window,
steam dispersing its vividness like a watercolor.

It wasn’t real. It was theater
the careful way we prepared her bed,
changed her clothes,

the neighbours appearing, Magi
with their bright baskets of cheese.

In the hallway I listened to conversations
with her friends,
themselves a little closer to the end

the religious uncle who clasped his hands with joy
My mother was elated.

Confused, embarrased, I had heard something
not meant for me, and so returned to folding her towels,
my part.

The cleansing that said,
You look better today.
This will help.

Learn about Daron Hagen here.


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