Two Poems

Hair Work

That day, shears snipped and mended hair around the shoulders to lend new purpose. They spoke of things that last in a bad economy – good recipes and friends sailing through screened doors in storms. Thin scissors trimmed bangs along the brows, bringing shape from chaos and a summer of ocean salt. They spoke about affairs, the cost of poor living overall. When money’s scarce, the horizon shrinks. Combing out full, the hair took oils and color well, plumping up inside the bonnet. A mirror showed every angle. Their friendship outlasted funerals, cancer and work shoes with broken laces, from winter’s highlighting to July’s protein wash and trimming of split ends. Dream of Bones and Pearls Here he was relaxed with no sawed hip bones to distract him from the blue vista. We all sat near tapestries in the cabin and drank great coffee. I could be eccentric, not worry about the part in my hair or ironing. Instead, I spent my time examining vintage jewelry - shell barrettes, pearl and marcasite pins. In this world, we were all equals - surgeons and editors.