She mumbles into tubes
and silver scissor.
They cut
her hair:
on the floor old dull needles.
I think of my mother
braiding my hair
half-asleep, her fingers weaving
in the dark.
Above the floor are
a mother’s fingers moving in and
out of the silver hair. The nurse sweeps
it into a bucket, the hand’s ghost,
the girl’s hair, their endless
inexorable braid.
Brittany is currently studying communication disorders at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and hopes to pursue a PhD in the field. She graduated with a dual degree in creative writing and psychology from Northwestern University in 2011, and writes poetry when she has a moment to spare.
I like this poem; it resonated with me. DNA binds us all together.