Should I wait for my hair to grow?
Should I wait for the great gown of
Living to run down my back, for
Time to be more than a habit?
Should I wait to feel it like
The brush of unfamiliar fingers,
To be yanked by the wind, to
Be heavier than the rain?
Should I wait to hide my baldness again
Beneath the tangled curtain
Of possibility, clothing that
Only covers, does not remove,
Our nakedness? Should I wait
For the patience of my body
To converge into these magnificent
Layers, layer by layer, here
Encasing a bouquet of protons,
Here this bundle of impossible
Fibers? Here, where death grows
From roots of life? Should I
Billow like a flag atop these bones,
Pose some resistance, soar
With millions of nerveless limbs
Beyond my field of vision? Should I
Huddle against my own warmth?
Should I become my own
Home? Should I let the patience
Of my body weave me a gown
So glorious the world will pick
It apart again?
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