I have a dream that she braids my hair
while telling me about her new favorite color, the air that smells
like kumquats, and that there is no salt in the water.
Your hair has so many knots at the ends, she complains.
Don't you own a brush?
I tell her that it's hiding underneath the sink.
You have them because you keep falling asleep with shampoo
in your hair. Wake up.
"What are you saying? I'm awake right now."
Don't be ridiculous. I'm already dead.
And I wake up in the bathtub with shampoo still in my hair.
- - - -
I only finger-comb the hair that shows up in the mirror. Down to the waist, it trails
together like twine.
Does the reflection today look older?
Tomorrow I turn seventeen.
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