Monday, April 27, 2015

Your Hair

Your hair rides on your head like Pontius Pilate:
conscious of the dire implications of your fate.
Your hair is like a date: a calendar announcement

of a deadline through which you would like to scratch
a red line – and a boring partner who you grieve
will never leave. Your hair is not good news.

Your hair has other views than you – as deadening
as voodoo. Your hair reminds you you will not survive.
Your hair reminds you you’re alive.


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