Kansas City 1966.

Saturday, my first haircut.

A date with Mother, the two of us push
through glass doors that spin ‘round.
We are full of eggs.

Rapunzel and Lady Godiva, marrow and salt,
dark snakes dancing in us. Waiting to be born.

We weave our hair into a tangle of palace
mirrors clear and golden.

Look!

The future is behind you.

Gaze into the uterine glass ball.

Virgin locks braided down and into my spine.

I sat upon the tale to swim deeper into the dark womb,
losing my anchor.

Scissors cut at the base and behold,
my goldilocks anti-gravity spring.
Tears fall and I become

Dandelion girl!

Casting seed
sand vow every summer
to resurrect Golden.

Green sapphires peer through navels
Eyes cut like Diamonds with a humble view.

The way a Bumble sees.