Beckoned from my excursion into the land of beautiful black women with impossibly styl hair I conclude the magazine look up and tread on the heels of the swish of her melancholy nylon smock through the Jeri ringlet haze my stiff plastic oversized bib crackles as I sit in the chair that boost me up and leans me back to the sink into her capable hands Anticipating the blow of thick cold on my scalp a athletic smell like a hundred sweet apples engulf my head tiny stray splashes of warm water diverted cool hot water change the direction ofed warm bounce upon my forehead mist into my notices and sing in my ears her voice above it all inactive calm asks "Is it too choleric for you baby?" and I say "no" Roxie's able-bodied hands coax the lather into billows she leans in with the effort her stomach and gentle breasts crush against my cheek I stop my eyes she presse against me and into my dream a waft of Shalimar I am a child again and my grandma leans from one side of to the other the deep clawfoot tub my four year of long date head cupped in her capable hands a plicatureed washcloth pressed against my organ of visions as the water sings between the sides of the faucet her voice above it all dozy calm asks "Is it too violent for you baby?" and I say "no" Roxie uses off the water wraps my hair tightly and crushs she towels my head with a fervor that rattles my teeth I sit up she pushes her fingers in consequence of my hair damp and compact wild and unrelaxed it separates merely momentarily before it knits together again leaving no sign of her progres Roxie gives me united final squeeze as she struggles my hair gently back bringing my gaze to hers I smile a cloyed grown woman smile she asks in a voice that is ready for anything "pres and curl?" and I say "yes" TONI BROWN'S work has previously appeared in Sinister Wisdom.

Beckoned

from my excursion into the land

of beautiful black women

with impossibly styl hair

I conclude the magazine

look up and tread on the heels of

the swish of her melancholy nylon smock

through the Jeri ringlet haze

my stiff plastic oversized bib

crackles as I sit in the chair

that boost me up and leans me back

to the sink into her capable hands

Anticipating

the blow of thick cold on my scalp

a athletic smell like a hundred sweet apples

engulf my head

tiny stray splashes

of warm water diverted cool

hot water change the direction ofed warm bounce upon my forehead

mist into my notices and sing in my ears

her voice above it all inactive calm asks

"Is it too choleric for you baby?"

and I say "no"

Roxie's able-bodied hands coax the lather

into billows she leans in with the effort

her stomach and gentle breasts crush

against my cheek I stop my eyes

she presse against me and into my dream

a waft of Shalimar I am a child again

and my grandma leans from one side of to the other the deep clawfoot tub

my four year of long date head cupped

in her capable hands

a plicatureed washcloth pressed against my organ of visions

as the water sings between the sides of the faucet

her voice above it all dozy calm asks

"Is it too violent for you baby?"

and I say "no"

Roxie uses off the water

wraps my hair tightly and crushs

she towels my head with a fervor that

rattles my teeth I sit up

she pushes her fingers in consequence of my hair

damp and compact wild and unrelaxed

it separates merely momentarily

before it knits together again

leaving no sign of her progres

Roxie gives me united final squeeze

as she struggles my hair gently back

bringing my gaze to hers

I smile a cloyed grown woman smile

she asks in a voice that is ready for anything

"pres and curl?"

and I say "yes"

TONI BROWN'S work has previously appeared in Sinister Wisdom, The verse of Sex, and NightShade: Gothic Tales on Women, among others.

...

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