Hair

Dirty fiber optic chords

clumped into burnt hemp rope:

hair. Each dead cell strand a

weak wisp of my fragile femininity.

Male friends, almost-loves

drape banners of caution over me—“Men like

Their women with long locks.”—

but I ache to tear off the dirty blonde titles

and watch them flutter to the floor between

silver blades.

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “Hair

  1. Beautiful. Personal to you, and yet also to me (even though I am not blond). I hope you know that you do more than try to write – you are a writer, and a beautiful one at that.

    Like

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