Bald Spots

I took a couple strands of my hair

and from root to tip.

I felt for smoothness

and pulled them if they weren't.

My parents sometimes,

did not talk to each other.

I pulled strands,

by the pore,

one 

by one.

the snap deafened

the silence.

The pillow beside me,

meshed of

cobweb black.

I gathered it,

rolled it,

threw it in the trashcan.

My father yells,

hits,

I run to my room,

reread Wrinkle in Time,

I pull, place

one imperfect hair

close to the spine

of each page.

Maybe two.

At school,

I tied my hair.

all up or half up

never down

but classmates who walked 

behind me 

down our grey stairs,

could not miss the 

bald spots.