Each filament of shed hair seeks coupling,

and I can’t blame what leaves my body when

I want more than what I’m given. Mom says

I’m a low-maintenance woman, not a

no-maintenance woman. I buy myself

bouquets; sunlight reveals a strand in spokes

of verbena. I unravel its grip,

a scarf slipping from an elegant neck.

To collect each thread: lengths of time

strayed from scalp, and sew a hemline

of horizon. To wrap fiber around my

finger; ring of constancy, solemn oath

of natural progression. This tourniquet

stems the loss I’ve inherited through living.

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Cassandra Caverhill is the author of the chapbook Mayflies (Finishing Line Press, 2020). Her work has appeared internationally in journals across the US and Canada, most recently in The Coalition, Pagination, and Short Reads. Cassandra is a graduate of Bowling Green State University’s MFA program in poetry, and she teaches creative writing in her hometown of Windsor, Ontario. Learn more at cassandracaverhill.com.