Poems

Hair

They said she was helping the enemy
Her eyes were blank
She never saw the scissors
         as they neared her head


the cold snip snip
of cutting steel
Then dripping blood
warmed her head

They always get women by their hair
her most naked place
Hair remembers
the hands and faces that once
were buried in it
This hair remembers 
those who have forgotten it

She always resisted 
having her hair cut  
brushing her hair 
as a pact with life
Inside her is always that steel
snipping snipping

Only when the world is quiet at night
when the hour of remembering strikes midnight
all those who have lived in her hair
the hands and faces return
She brushes her hair a hundred times
loosening everyone who’s left her
one by one from her glistening strands

She never knew another way
They say bearing your hair
is your life

Share this poem

view comments

Comments (0)

No comments yet - be the first:

Leave a comment