Nan
I want to do something drastic
With my hair
Cut it all off, maybe
Shave it.
The shock it would give my mother.
My hands on the scissors
I remember my grandmother
Her silvery threads of hair
Being shorn off at hospital,
Like sheep's wool.
She had been able to sit on hers, but
It never grew back.
Short spikes instead of
Mercury waves accompanied her
In her coffin.
My own short hair grew
Slowly, steadily
Ever since I realised
She could not grow hers anymore.