As I rise out of bed to go to the toilet,
my arm muscle twitches to pull my hair
from out of my pyjama top –
but it’s just my chemo cap resting
against the nape of my neck.
When I did have hair,
so much of the thick stuff would get in the way,
increasing my hot flushes.
How I’d pull it all upwards away from my clammy neck,
splaying it across the pillow for a cooler sleep.
But it was far more annoying when it started to shed liberally,
when I’d find strands
on my shoulders;
in my drink;
on the floor.
I try to be grateful for my cool neck
and my clean floorboards
as my hand rises to flip my hair on the way to the bathroom
and simply brushes empty air instead.
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Canary word: Present
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125,029 Literary Works • 672,781 Reviews
Thank you for sharing this piece, it felt quiet and tender, like a whispered confession at night.
What stays with me is how the smallest gesture, the twitch of an arm, becomes the weight of memory. Your opening lines place us in that in-between space where the body remembers what it’s lost. That moment, reaching for hair that is no longer there, already sets the ache of absence against the echo of presence.
The structure of your poem mirrors the shedding you describe. Short stanzas fall away like strands—on your shoulders, in your drink, across the floor. Each pause feels like another thread loosening, and the rhythm slows the reader into noticing. The scattered form makes the grief tactile; we feel the fragments as they spread.
I admire the balance you create between loss and gratitude. The thick hair once heavy with heat becomes a thing missed, even envied in memory. You write, “I try to be grateful for my cool neck / and my clean floorboards,” and yet the emptiness that follows, the hand brushing only air, lands like a soft collapse. The rhyme of grateful with painful hovers unsaid, but felt. The contrast between past and present is layered beautifully. First, there’s the frustration of having hair, “thick stuff” causing hot flushes and clamminess, followed by the greater frustration of losing it. This progression makes the reader feel both sides: the minor annoyance of excess and the much deeper grief of absence. By holding those two together, you avoid sentimentality and instead present something nuanced and human.
Your ending is the quietest line, but it’s the most powerful. No dramatics, only absence: the brushing of nothing. That silence reverberates, like the shadow of a song after the last note. It reduces everything to air, to space, to a gesture unfinished.
This poem carries grief gently. It refuses to romanticize, but it honors memory with care. By grounding loss in ordinary movement, you make the extraordinary ache accessible, real, and unforgettable. This was wonderful, continue producing what works come from your heart <3
Hey there!! I'm here to review this poem for you <3
This is such a vulnerable and emotional poem. Hair is such an important part of so many people's identities, and I love the way you've captured the experience of losing this part of you. You've told an entire story within this poem, and I adore that.
One critique I have is that the transitions in the last part of the poem are a little choppy. I'd love to see another short stanza after the third-to-last stanza and the second-to-last--those are the ones where I find myself feeling a little bit of whiplash. I think in any extra stanzas you could explore an internal struggle! Right now, the poem focuses a lot on the physical struggles of getting used to hair loss, but the emotional aspects are also interesting and could be explored.
I also feel like there are some words that don't quite fit the tone of the piece. Like "liberally"--the entire piece is casual in a way, narrative. "Liberally" seems almost assertive, more medical. However, I think this could be easily fixed :)
Overall, though, I enjoyed this piece!! It brings light to the struggles of a chemo patient who wrestles with the loss of their hair--it almost feels like a "grass is greener on the other side" situation, with the narrator not realizing what their hair meant until they lost it.
Keep writing!
<3, daisy
Hi! It's CATS here, Matt! Since you reviewed my poem, I decided to review yours! Let's get right into it!
The first paragraph tells of how you got use to having hair...then finding out you don't have any. Marvelous start!
The second paragraph tells of when you find out what it really is; a chemo cap! It's very creative, my friend!
The third paragraph talks about the negative points about having hair; I understand that, totally relatable lol. My hair always gets in the way.
The fourth paragraph continues to talk about it. It is SO RELATABLE!!! Like honestly, I do that all the time. GREAT!
Hair loss; common. I am a swimmer, and lose hair a lot.
Sixth Paragraph: Having no hair is also a great thing tho, because you don't have to care for it and you'll be cool all the time! (Sometimes I get jealous...)
Seventh paragraph: Talks about how you miss having hair. It's okay to miss it sometimes. I think this poem is great.
Overall, it is very good and creative and unique, and I look forward to more of your poems! Happy Writing!
Love,
CATS