Above where this necklace falls on my chest,
I say, because instead truthfully measuring here 
where my third rib juts exposed from the body
of my visible sternum is where I want my hair
to hit when straightened and pulled forward
would be mood-killing, inappropriately morbid.

Artificial strawberry blonde falls, snipped to graze 
the silver wings of my thunderbird pendant. Levity
lets my head become so light it almost untethers
from my spine, floats without the burden of those
four inches, the last two years when accounting 
for quarterly trimming. Two years spent thinning.