FROM, ELIAS

When I catch myself missing you I’m amused

by your new look; how you’re puffed like a scared cat

with your straightened hair,

ginger ends grasping for the sky. As a prayer?

Too devout for you. I assume you’re peacocking

to try & trap another brunette pixie in your unraveled life

& hair. So would you slap away my hand if I was wrapped in it now?

If I parted that frizzy mess to rest my lips & fingers,

coiling & uncoiling until you’d grimace, I’d crumple,

you’d tell me how fucking angry I make you

while you'd scrunch water into your unwashed hair.

Hair that now betrays you by reaching for God. 

But He betrays you back

even on fire

you only see curls.