THE PHOTOGRAPHS WITH MY HAIR UP

4 on a strip,

probably taken in

some Burlington

Woolworth’s just

before the wedding.

I wanted my hair

left long and flow

ing, wild as dark

vines in midnight

water, not pinned

into something

neat and small,

subdued. When

the rabbi said hours

after this photo,

when I still could

have balked, run

free, “enjoy this

day, after this

it will be your

husband, your kids,”

I felt the hairpins

turn to knives,

carve warnings

under the pale

lace, diamond

tiara