dreadlock canyon

i brush my hair everyday she says
to her grandmother as the car turns
a dangerous left and the sun glints
on her tow head curls momentarily
making the pool streaked twirls
 gleam with a  low fire's twists
around hints of red clay, and brown
mud near the skull, where the sun
barely reached at all under water
while she swam all summer waiting
for the leaves to change