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Volume No. XVIII
after my first chemo the shedding begins. To ease transition my long, luxuriant envy-of-friends hair has been chopped, reduced to a practical pixie crop.
Red Devil poison circulates, penetrates. Strands loosen, detach in my hand. Uprooted from toxic follicles, they lie scattered around my sink strewn across my dressing table settled in tangled nests on my white tile floor.
Day after day tender patches of pallid scalp expose in slow-motion striptease. Though grateful for spared life and breast I grieve, like Samson bereft.
On TV, a stunning young actress with cancer is extolled for the boldness of her naked pate. In my mirror, head bare, I can pass for a drag queen with painted-on eyebrows and my father's face.
I am not beautiful bald.
Helene Berlin, a retired software developer, is a Zumba instructor who has been dancing with NED for eleven years. Fourteen Days was inspired by a recent magazine cover featuring a hairless yet radiant Joan Lunden. This is Helene's first published work and she is grateful to her women's poetry writers group for their wisdom and encouragement.
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