My hair and I

From Irish roots and freckled pale
cheeks with uniform plaits and pink
blousy bows and over-rigorous one
hundred brushes and winks at prayer
time in named navy blue knickers
incase I should get lost and stolen
kisses down Frog Lane with Garry
Webb and endless sleepy summers sat
on warm pavements the cuckoo long
gone and stand up washes in the
kitchen sink before tea and school
sports days spent at home baking
whilst mum is out cleaning toilets and
dad is in bed to scratchy striped
cheese cloth and flares and loose and
long and flowing wild at heart cautious
by nature splendidly singular walks in
chalk valleys with Keats to guide me in
love to Leonard Cohen soundtrack in
Jonny’s oversized shirt wet from the
musky damp earthen floor of the bothy
to jaunty bob and Mothercare and
buckets of soiled towelling nappies left
to soak overnight to radioactive fallout
and regeneration and acceptance of
loss and childless rounded belly and
wispy violet tints and tender bare spots