Robin Becker. “Salon”. Domain of Perfect Affection.
These lines come at the end of a poem detailing the regular visits to the salon for manicure and shampoo and cut. The voice we are to take is that of the lesbian daughter.
Ennobled by his gaze, she accepts
her diminishment, she who knows herself
his favorite. In their cryptic language
they confide and converse, his hands busy
in her hair, her hands quiet in her lap.
Barrel-chested, Italian, a lover of opera,
he husbands his money and his lover, Ethan;
only with him may she discuss my lover and me,
and in this way intimacy takes the shape
of the afternoon she passes in the salon,
in the domain of perfect affection.
To husband: use resources economically; conserve.
Pomade: a scented ointment applied to the hair or scalp.
And so for day 1656