HAIRcut


A shower of loss,
the Black grass cleft.

Go from me. Go

Shear. I am already shorn.
Tear . I am already torn.

Go from me. Go

A rain of dross,
black clippings in air.

The Mother with bright scissors towering above.
What love. Cut the umbilical. This is what is needed.

to
Cut away you and you and what is left of me.
Cut away the sunwoman turned cold, lost in a fog of gems.
Cut away the promise of a future.
Cut away the stone money Banks, the proof of existence.
Cut away a living burial in cunt and cock.
Cut away my arms and their constant doing.
Cut away my head and its everyday suicide.
Cut away better days lost.
Cut without anesthetic.
Cut deep.

Cut to the core.
Find the hot seed
The secret.

Don’t show it to me.
I will know finally
how to sow. To fix
A harvest of stitches.
A reap.