I offered you my braid.
I wanted you to anchor onto my shoulders,
enter me from the back
like a fire horse
on a metal rat.
As the braid becomes undone,
it would spread against my back
and you could rest upon it.
Yesterday I cut my hair like a boy.
Like a boy who was the last offspring
from a long line of sisters.
Today I accept there will not be another after you.
(This poem is dedicated to _. It does not of course qualify for the challenge)