Her hair held her in place.
It was the very best thing about her, they said,
after her teeth.
It was curly and fine, even rough sometimes,
But was said to shine even when she cried.
And when it was gone
They were surprised to find
That she was still there.
After all, she was more than some story.
Her beauty was fluid, her spirit well-suited
Because she was a creature
A woman.
A fierce weapon.
Her hair had only ever served to carry her there.
