Power crackles through my tangles. My hairbrush falls into three pieces when I run it through my hair since my new grays are actually spears. All it took was a little pressure. Turns out—I am a spark electric who can break a heart as well as a hairbrush. My frizz invites a tang of fear: the hiss and snap of each follicle which can turn the whole into jagged remnants. What else might I speed into entropy or cast into a black hole? I’m hoping duct tape will be enough to mend everything, though I suspect it will be no match for these tendrils.
