Red Hair

The Writer’s Almanac for Wednesday, August 12, 2020


Red Never Lasts


by Anya Krugovoy Silver

There’s no doubt it’s the most glamorous,


the one you reach for first—its luscious gloss.


Russian Roulette, First Dance, Apéritif, Cherry Pop.

For three days, your nails are a Ferris wheel,


a field of roses, a flashing neon Open sign.


Whatever you’re wearing

feels like a tight dress


and your hair tousles like Marilyn’s on the beach.


But soon, after dishwashing, typing, mopping,


the chips begin, first at the very tips and edges


where you hardly notice, then whole shards.


Eventually, the fuss is too much to maintain.


Time to settle in to the neutral tones.


Baby’s Breath, Curtain Call, Bone.

“Red Never Lasts” by Anya Krugovoy Silver from from nothing.

© Louisiana State University Press, 2016. Reprinted with permission