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.
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.
