[Head by Basquiat, 1981]
I will never cut my hair.
If I ever cut my hair,
I would not be a woman.
I will endure its clouding of my sight.
I will endure its itch of tangles needing to be smoothed.
I will cultivate adornment to cur its clouding.
I will comb and order my head so none will be offended.
I will braid my hair to show girl tightness.
I will wrench it and wrap it to bun,
One tight knot, weighted with hair pins
Heavy at the back of my head.
At night, I will remove my pins.
I will unwind my braid, shake loose my head.
I will let it hang and I will wait for man,
I will wait for man.