• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 02
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Waiting (at the wig fitter’s)

So, I'm waiting now, for you to add my hair.
Will I be a blonde? Short cap of curls and ringlets
hovering above my ears, streaked with darker bits
matching my eyebrows?
Will cascades of chestnut strands cover my ears
and lay flat upon my neck?
Or will you perhaps contrast my china-doll face
with a swirl of true, blue-black raven stuff
No, no, I am eyeing that bit of sun-blazed reddish
slightly curly stuff – the one over by itself, in a corner.
Rarest of all they say, red hair, blue eyes.
I would like that – my outer self declaring
what I know to be true: I am rare
and wonderful.