Mummy decides to go silver at fifty
by Anushka Shah
and I love how the silver crown of her head
begins to wax, growing from a sliver to a half-moon,
as the black dye wanes, I count six silver hairs
on my head now at twenty-one and I would like to know
when my head will fully glitter. When will I inherit
the real family silver, once braided, coconut oil heavy
on my grandmothers’ heads? I do not want
our old Nissan Altima gleaming like a fat minnow,
nor the chains on my neck, nor the silver spoons and forks
oxidizing in the drawers, nor the sequined saris,
nor the steel pots with the flat-lipped edges for soaking lentils,
nor the thumb-sized, silver box holding black kajal.
In the minutes it will take to inherit these things, I want
my head, like a milkweed pod, to explode into silver floss.