re/growth

i was convinced my hair wouldn't grow back.
it is autumn now & still there are flowers 
who find reasons to open their eyes. i have been
warming up to the color yellow. 
when i shaved it all off, i remember collecting
the strands from the red tile bathroom floor.
i thought, "what have i done?" people like to say
"it will grow back" but what if there is not time?
the staircases & the windows. touch & evaporation. 
hair is not a limb but a place. when it is gone
that is like severing a house. i am great at leaving
& horrible at letting go. i prefer to still talk
to exes even though i hardly do. when it first started
to grow back i wanted every day to shave again.
to press the clippers to my scalp & say,
"i do not want to remember all the world
we can hold." to be bald meant to be untethered.
unmarked & unowned. my hair craves a place
to wash. a well to worship. my lover to learn 
exactly how i curl. so, i let it. i can almost pull my hair
into a ponytail. i tell myself that this time
next year the house might have
new windows. we might have a car that works.
my hair might almost be where it was
down my back. eager to be braided & pulled. 
on the hillside there are wayward crocuses. purple 
& meant for spring. i go to tell them the terrible news.
that soon winter will be here & that they 
are lost. they laugh at me. they say, "there is 
not point in arriving if we are never gone." 
i love my hair most when it is wet. when i sit
in the shower like i used to as child. pretend i am in
a lush rainforest. the bugs whine & gossip. 
the birds eat neat holes in the night sky. 
my hair grows slow but steady by
the moon's yellow light.