Do you notice anything?
Her comment, laid down like a mark.

Often I’m the kid caught
napping in a class.
But not today.

She came home with his haircut,
not the soft shoulder flow
we found agreeable before.

Suddenly, it’s swept-back sides,
almost a crest on top. Not even
a tight bounce as she walks.

Did I forget some part of her?
Should I not assume an always tender look?
This hair could stare down the police.

Always, always I support her
choice of cut and clothes
with brief remarks.

But appreciation as an art
delves in sweetened niceties, details,
comments slowly built in layers:
phyllo dough soaked in honey.

Which is why
she didn’t get it styled for me.

Eric Forsbergh has published over 100 poems in venues such as Streetlight, Artemis, JAMA, The Cafe Review, and many others. He has twice won the Edgar Allen Poe Prize from the Poetry Society of Virginia, and has published two full-length poetry books, the most recent being on DNA, titled This Mortal Coil.