My Hair

It used to be here,
Now it's there,
A migration
Of my hair,
Once on my head,
Now under my arm,
In the pit
I can see it.
In the ear,
It's here,
Why?
In my nose,
It grows,
Why?
Hair products for removal,
Products to make it grow,
Why?
And wax, hot wax,
Why?

poem by Richard Jarboe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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