My Sister’s Yellow Scarf by Isabel Grey (Colorado, 27)

​You chiffon wrap, you frayed swatch of
Marigold and mustard fabric, how you
Billowed like a ghost trail behind me as I dashed across
The backyard, pretending you were
Flaxen waves sprouting from my crown. My four-year-old mouth refused to eat
Anything other than the wispy tale of
Rapunzel. A fairy, I carried on my imaginary daydreams
Of boar hair bristles smoothing my long locks, each stroke counting down the days
Until my trips to the barber would come less. But my sister
Wasn’t a witch nor was I a pregnant
Woman in this story. All I craved was the long hair
I was denied. My mom always told me:
Fake it till you make it but
I was naked in my little boy haircut.
All I could rely on was the Eidolon
I created for myself. So from my sister’s closet
Shelf, I took you, yellow scarf, golden tulle, and wrapped what little
Semblance of belief in my gender I could suspend during play hour.

You, the object who catalyzed a transfigurative response
Were knotted around my toddling head and
There, you embedded yourself in each of my follicles,
Extending my hair and expanding the understanding that I could be
A little girl. Every thread that made you was a midisian
Lifeline, tethering me to my femininity.
Thank you.
Thank you for showing me
How happy I could look
As a blonde with inches, clothing me
In congruency. We’ve moved, we’ve grown apart,
I have no clue what became of you. Perhaps you are still
in a cardboard box somewhere but I haven’t forgotten that no one
Believed in me then like you did. You taught me
It’s okay to have one’s hair cut— sheers of adversity
Trim to test and stimulate
What lengths one can grow back.
I think of you when I curl or straighten my hair
It's to my waist now!
Can you see from Garment Heaven, from that thrift store in the sky?
How the bowl cut you surrounded
Has waterfalled into dirty blonde tresses?
If you were still in my life, like a grandmother or
Midwife I’d give you a private showing of
Xavier Dolan’s Laurence Anyways.
If you ever get around to watching it
Wherever you are, watch out for a scene in the
Beginning— the main character is starting to live as a woman,
And she places paper clips over her
Fingertips, to stimulate the feeling of having long nails.
That’s what you did for me.





​Isabel Grey (she/her) is an MFA student in Genre Fiction and Poetry at Western Colorado University. Her poem "This Act Shall Take Effect" was nominated for the 2024 Pushcart Prize by Terrain.org. Her short story "Red Door House" was the winner of the 2023 WordCrafter Press Short Fiction Contest. Isabel's work can be found in Black Poppy Review, The Chamber Magazine, The Gay & Lesbian Review, and elsewhere. ​