haircut

By: Nevin Nahar Haque

november. sixty-five degrees. your hair is

too short. curls gone. I didn’t mean to look

for you, my dear. I was gazing at the purple,

starless sky. I was in my head again, and I

know you hate that. I didn’t recognize you.

I would’ve known you by your hair. my dear,

are our birthdays ever really about us? aren’t

they about the people who love us? i love you.

i hate you. you are not here to fact check or

disagree. so let me celebrate and/or mourn, as

i please. your twenty-sixth is about my fingers

in your curls. mini cupcakes on a too slow past

midnight uptown train. your eyes flitting in and

out of slumber, as you lay in my lap. i run my

fingers through your curls once more. now,

i recognize you by your favorite grey peacoat,

the folds you enveloped me when i was blue,

blowing cigarette smoke into hair. my best

friend approaches you, because today is a bit

about her too but you dismiss her. i watch as

she texts me, he is standoffish. he looks older.

he looks like the light has left his eyes. twenty

six. you turn away from her, and towards me.

wind blows, pushing my bangs in front of my

face. my hair is gold now too, can you see? i

step off the ledge and fade into the crowd. so

can I be your favorite ghost, my dear? can my

absence be more than what love could be for

you? i am the white spaces on your pages and

the emdashes you don’t want to use. i am the

novel you can’t finish writing and the context

behind all of your finished pieces. will we speak

to each other subliminally, forever? professors

commend me on how i sustain long poems

like this one. what can i say? my love is exhaust-

ive. ing. i write from my sad spot tonight. you

came here with me once. leaned your head on

my shoulder, laughing. i turn to my right, seeing

your curls, once more. today is your birthday,

and i love you and everything i knew of you is

gone. your hair is shorter and you know i hate it.

---

Nevin Nahar Haque is a Muslim, Bangladeshi-American storyteller born and raised in Queens, New York. Her writing explores the intersections between generational trauma, diaspora, psychoanalysis, grief, and love. She is currently a fiction MFA candidate at Columbia University School of the Arts, working on her first novel.