Issue 9


Autumn 2013

 

Lullaby for Pauline

 

I'm tired of hearing how
it comes out in the comb

your bun-ring is askew
you've lost the grips

the broken slide is anything
but gentle.

For once  your knotted thoughts
lie still     you say your hair

what's left of it      is all in tangles
and so I brush away our differences

standing behind the bed they've rigged up     
in what was the living room

from scalp to tip     repeated strokes
repeated strokes     from scalp to tip
 
Mason Pearson has the upper hand
daring to tease your uncoiled wispiness

snagging precious little with a clean swish
the spark of static all but gone

we  summon up a silver rhythm
in the downward sweep                                 
hush     hush     hush

 

____________________

Sue Kindon