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I’m Letting it Grow

Mother, I’m letting it grow,
enjoying letting it grow—
the thick brown hairs
on my thighs
you made me shave
for beaches and parades.
I’m letting it grow. Ma,
dark and curling as creeping ivy
to see if there’s a man alive
who’ll have the guts
to walk with me in shorts
down streets, in public places.
And if there’s not—
I’ll dye it black
and grow it thick and wilder;
naked hair will trail
like banners through the crowds—
all eyes glued to these gorilla legs
as they plod forth like Kong,
hairy and alone
but in their own direction.