God Becomes a Hairdresser

Things are going badly. Handbasket badly.

What sort of things? you ask.

The usual: the Red Sox season, war, those wild cells
proliferating to kill.

So God borrows scissors from the Three Fates
and opens a salon downtown, unisex, no less.

People come and sit in the chairs under nylon bibs
like agreeable oversized babies while God runs
His holy fingers through their hair.

He clips and snips and sprays them with lotions.
He twiddles and crunches and poufs, and holds
up a mirror behind, until His clients look and see
that it is good.

At 8 p.m, God combs out a last perm, accepts a tip,
and pulls down the shades.

So has His work made this world any better?

Beats me.

About Penelope Scambly Schott

Penelope Scambly Schott is a past recipient of the Oregon Book Award for Poetry. Her recent books include House of the Cardamom Seed and November Quilt. Penelope hosts the White Dog Poetry Salon in Portland and leads an annual writing workshop in Dufur, Oregon.

Read more

Previously published in Gold Man Review and How I Became An Historian, Cherry Grove, 2014.

Related Reading