Poem: Red Hair

Red Hair

By Sara Allie
QuailBellMagazine.com

I sprayed the 702 to get rid of the filthy
Residue that washed off my body
I scrubbed every inch of the tub
Till the excrement was gone
Still remained a strand of red hair
Red hair that I do not possess
For it was a ginger bred hair
And immediately speculation
Crept in my brain
I began to investigate this fiber
Recalling CSI
Analyzing with my eagle eyes
The way the ginger intertwined
In the essence of a curl
Wrapping the fiber in plastic
Not to contaminate it
With my own DNA
For,
This peculiar fiber had its own DNA
Is this a genetic mutation
Creating this red pigment
Of this DNA?
The memory of the genetic code
Or the memory from my own RNA
Flashed like a camera in my view
This ginger fiber
Belonged to a head
That mingled with my fingers
Mingled with my palms
Slept in my lap
And intertwined in my sheets
Creating new codons as it lay
Multiplying proteins in cells
And dividing until more fibers
Releases
This ginger strand has its own memory bank
That reminds it of a dimple that only happens
When a smile is genuine
Or a look of intensity
When in deep thought
A translation that turns into
Lip biting when sobering mind
Wanders
Of what could be or
What was
And has Yet to realize that
My chromosomes have noticed
Noticed about the dimple
Or noticed about the trepid thoughts
Because my RNA caught on to the strand
Of Red Hair
And my alleles have attached to the recessive trait
A Recessive trait
That mingled with my fingers
Mingled with my palms
Slept in my lap
And intertwined in my sheets
Creating new codons as it lay
Multiplying proteins in cells
And dividing until more fibers
Releases
And I sit with the CSI Kit
Analyzing with my eagle eyes
Whether the ginger curl will stay
I look over into the room
And there you lay
With multitudes of ginger curls
Intermingling my sheets
I join my sheets to intermingle you
Hearing your DNA in my lap
I secretly tell my RNA
And the 702
That the ginger strand
Of hair stays