PROSE POETRY
LOIS MARIE HARROD
HAIR
My granddaughter says, Lulu, she calls me Lulu, what she could say at seven months, Lulu she says at eighteen, first year at NYU, first name, only name, Lulu, she says winding her long black hair around her finger, hair that grows brown and has flowed pink, blue, green and blonde in its various iterations during her teens, Lulu she says as she assesses, Lulu, shaking that great black coiling mop of hers, those long strands I find in the drain of the shower we share when I visit for
Thanksgiving, strands that repulse forefinger and thumb when I whirl them up and toss them in the toilet, Lulu, she says, your hair is thick for a person your age.
Thanksgiving, strands that repulse forefinger and thumb when I whirl them up and toss them in the toilet, Lulu, she says, your hair is thick for a person your age.
Lois Marie Harrod’s l9th collection of poetry, The Bed the Size of a Small Country, is appearing in September 2025. Dodge poet, life-long educator and writer, she is published in literary journals and online ezines from American Poetry Review to Zone 3. More info at www.loismarieharrod.org
