Don’t Say My Name
Skull, axis, kernel of focus,
hub of center, genius of crisis,
Drain, swaddled in silken tufts,
shawl, veil, scarf, majestic loft.
Listing, harebrained, keeling,
right side up and upside down,
one big lonesome brain searching
through eternity for eyes, arms, legs,
forty acres and a mule,
kind neighbors, good luck, faithful
lovers. Big, guileless baby of a brain
searching through eternity
with cracks in its skull
nerve endings escape,
attracting bees like honey,
lightning bolts like thoughts,
nerve endings like smoky moths.
What fool thinks of strands
of hair as passing thoughts?
Who wants to comb them all
morning and stroke them back
to sleep all night?
Whose hands haven’t
felt as if they’ve detached
to careen through space
like stray thoughts of a lost planet,
searching through space for your hair,
to touch it, to worship its source.
hair collection site: U.S. Mail