By John Mamas


“I won’t cut it again,”

 You proclaim in a tornado-haze

 As I cry over these void locks 

Braided crow feathers and black silk. 


When your hair hit your ears, 

We had only just met

Under the lustful yellow lights, 

I had first felt intimacy from a man 

Your forearm holding my back so tight

I felt us becoming one. 


When your hair hit your chin, 

We had been falling for the idea of love 

When you passed me down the hallway, 

I was “my handsome” and “my boy.” 

Our eyes interlocked in the search for meaning,

What it meant to be together. 


When your mom asked you about us,

You shaved your head in the shower

You let go of what you were, 

And took on what she wanted of you.

My glances left unmatched, 

I slipped notes through locker 1884. 


Now you are seated, shaving your head, 

I kneel down at your pelvis 

Hands clasped, wishing upon Juno 

To send us into the stars 

Where your cascading hair blends into the—

universe, and our eyes create constellations. 


Streetlight Hopping                                                                   Liberation