My Mother Dyes My Hair

Like her mother taught her to color hers. 

1970’s cosmetologist, 

learnt how to bleach her own hair 

& please her father’s Aryan mind. 

My mother went blond freshman year 

to match her mother’s vision. 

I went bruise-black. 

My grandmother snapped in sobs 

when she sawed it off– 

I think she’d dye happy if I were blond. 

I think I’d dye too. 

I pray to erase 

brown-haired, brown-eyed identity 

at the Polish-Catholic pew, 

Donorovich, pray for my sins. 

I just wanted to be your 

Herbst-smart German girl. 

I can’t go out, 

god can see that 

my roots are showing. 

Damaging my scalp, 

five years of Ion permanent color build. 

Bathroom haze– 

I think the chemicals are getting to me.