Te pareces a tu mamá

I look in the mirror as I put
on the color rinse to my hair
and recognize a certain look
that as I age returns you to
me in that mirror
and then haunts me as you follow
me with your judging gaze

The magic in the box will
take away the natural grey
much more than that
it shall put off and delay

the moment of my coming to terms
with the hardening fact that
outwardly I am becoming you

while with fierce intention
I place the dye on my head
and wait
and charge against my future
with the energy of my past

you know
those teen years
when I hated you were my mother
and I that was your daughter

and look here I am
becoming you
and still resisting you
with the promise on the box
that the grey will go away
but the reason for
the treatment will not.

 Austin, TX 2011