Case Study of a Haircut at Home

Handle out, I bring the sharpest pair.She let it grow too long, time to repairmy dead, uneven ends. Taught not to fuss,I’ve practiced saying what I want, but her face

looks tired, fed up. I’m quiet just because.I hear each cut. The windows toss bouquetsof jagged light. It’s only when I’m hurtthat she reacts, will show her heart—

I jolt, pretending I’m cut. Her hand at her throat,she yells before seeing the truth. I oughtto say I’m sorry, but I wait for her to leave.

Later, I’ll do the same to men I love.