I looked like a lion
I’m losing my hair. it’s terrible: I’ve looked
every day. a friend made a comment
and everyone laughed (me included)
and now I can’t help but notice.
I’ve always liked how I looked
like a lion, but baldness does fall
through the family. my uncle makes it work
pretty well I suppose. and lenin
looked good. and roald dahl.
you can cultivate a serious look
if you like, but I’ll have to get rid
of my best leather jacket. I see myself,
fifty and quietly angry:
the sort of man who sits by a fire,
who hates when things change
and says cruel things to his sister.
there is a certain style to an oak
in december. there is a certain style
to a tortoise. I’ll shave off my sideburns
and harden considerably. pretend
that I’ve never been vain.
____________
D.S. Maolalai
Review by Jared Pearce
I used to tease my pals who were balding faster than me, but now I’ve learned to keep my trap shut because I’m heading that way, too. Better yet, I like how the poem develops and deepens the speaker’s situation into a vision, into a new version, with its pros and cons, with its acceptance of reality to build a new, even if more bitter, reality.