Break Up Hair

Like Lilith rising 
from the Red Sea,
having refused to submit
to Adam,
forever expelled 
from the Garden of Eden,
replaced by Eve – that mouse! --
I carry on 
with my fabulous,
freshly-cut, flame-colored 
hair.

Lovely like Rita --
Hayworth -- not meter maid --
as Gilda, coppery curls 
shimmering, cascading;
sultry, like Ann Margret,
hips swaying across 
the dance floor, singing
Bye-bye, Birdie, bye-bye;
or Julianne Moore,
statuesque, alabaster,
classic.

 Regal like the first 
Queen Elizabeth, bright, 
tight waves drawn above
her brilliant, aristocratic 
brow;
erotic and ethereal
like Venus on the half shell,
tresses long, luxuriant 
swirls, draping around
her hips in lush serpentine
curves. 

Like a femme fatale,
I might stalk you, seduce 
you with my new Betty Page 
bangs.
I’m dangerous, my shining
hair stolen from the flames
of hell.
I’m electric, untamed;
I’m a copperhead
with a temper; I could take 
revenge.

Out of the ash 
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.*

 - Grace Richards

From “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath, 1962.