The steam from the comb burns my ears
and the smell of hot metal and grease swing into my nostrils.
I wince and pull forward.
Big Mama presses and greases
and presses and greases.
My shoulders shrug and my neck becomes rigid.
She clenches my hair and pulls back on my roots.
The teeth of the comb pop through my kinks.
First at the tips, then back.
My chin rests on my chest.
She pinches the corner of my scalp
while her puckered lips blow cool air
to protect me from pain.
