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Saturday, February 18, 2006

Another poem - Beauty Regimen

Waiting to be
pressed, relaxed
nouveau waved,
braided, weaved,
or processed,
the women sit in stages
of hair disrepair,
hoping to be beautified
into magazine glamor,
praying to ameliorate
or just plain obliterate
the strains of

neglect and wear
to their bodies and souls.
Like someone once said:
"It's all in the hair, 'cause
a sista can be down and out,
abused and used,
one paycheck away from the streets,
but if her hair looks good,
she's got it going on!"
So like patient souls in line
to be baptized into
the Church of Pulchritude,
the sistas read the good word
as expounded by the scriptures of
Essence or Black Hair,
exclaiming the virtues
of the glorified adherents
of righteous style.
And they sit cremed,
dripping wet,
hair crackling to the tune
of the sizzling comb,
or faces half entombed
by heat-blasting sarcophi,
as they exchange the latest on
Luke and Laura,
Erica Kane,
or Vicky and Dorian --
heads bobbing to the music
blasting from V103,
laughing and just being,
inhaling the melange
of chemicals and mixtures
that hold the secrets of Black Beauty.
And for six hours, at least,
they escape the world outside.

(Copyrighted 1997)

Sharon Cullars Coffee Talk at 2/18/2006 09:12:00 PM Permanent Link     | | Home


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