Memento

Away from you today
I thought of my severed braid
lying on the bookshelf
where I left it.
I thought of wet hair, evenings
when I sat naked
with my back toward your hands,
and you would weave
the limp strands
into a straight, tight cord.
Four years of my hair,
four years of your hands,
four woven years clipped
by scissors in a single snip.
Away from you today
I feared I might die
before coming home to see you
and you would come across my braid
lying like a cut flower,
like love’s thin cord,
like a little dead pet
curled up on the shelf
where I left it.

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