At first I was like, “Is this my life now? Should I really publish a poem about a stray hair?” and then I remembered that I published a poem about a squeaky bra and also that this is my place to play with poesy and post photos and do what I please. So there.
O, stray hair! An insult
to time, thou art most unwelcome
upon mine chin or stomach or ample bosom
or wherever you decide to pop up next.
You are at your worst when coarse,
dark in shade,
and when my boyfriend is first
to recognize your sneaky, hideous violation.
Be gone, darkling, I beg!
Dissolve into the forest dim,
for I have enough hair, already experience
plenty of awkwardness–
and need not your further assistance.