Black Hydra jungle vines, curly and thick.
Cut off the head and three more grow back.
Dear pubes, I am supposed to despise you.

Mow the lawn until I am smooth, pure and
woman again. Rip you from the root like
some unholy and unfeminine weed. Perhaps

I did this once – forgot about cavewomen
and my inheritance. But now, I pray at an altar
to you. I let you grow, rewild the garden,

build a shed, write prize-winners there.
I forgo the bikini wax
and sprout myself whole again.