My hair’s growing longer
So when I’m in the shower
I pull on locks
That tug easily,
Feel them twitch
And spring forth
Like rubber bands from my scalp
Eager to be freed of their
Dead the day they were born
Subject to colorings, trimmings, tanglings,
And other forms of hairy torture.
I pinch the strands between thumb and forefinger
Peel them off my wet, hot skin.
With a firm-fingered grip,
I hold them a sliver away from the flowery plastic curtain,
A space for a tiny breath.
Synthetic daffodil and locks inhale,
There is a sign I see that says
“Do Not Disturb,”
And so I do,
Shapeshifting new life from
My beautiful frankensteins.
Will soon be washed down the drain into filth
When a woman comes
To clean the house.