©1994 Susan Noyes Anderson, Poem Train
My hair marches across my head.
Left face. Right face. Full speed ahead.
A hair platoon, in disarray,
with soldiers who will not obey.
Some stepping here. Some strutting there.
Some standing straight up in the air
at full attention, as they please.
I’ve had enough, Hair. Stand at ease.
Obey my orders. Call me ‘Sir.’
Dismissed. Fall out!
As you were.