Elegy (1996)

Dark Matter

Originally written in 1996.

These days they build
new doors out of balsa,
nearly out of butter, hollowcored, empty;
we are losing the thrill of opening doors.

No longer do we wish or try to push hard.
The clunk of brass latches falling into place is fading from memory.
We are forgetting the comfort that bubbled within us
once resistance was overcome.

We have disembodied ourselves.
Already unable to remain entranced
with the sounds of our lovers for long,
the day may be coming when each of us

will fail to recognize a brother, a sister;
soon, we may no longer know
anything our senses tell us.
The question rings out:

how can we sleep knowing
in the soles of our feet,
in the ledges of our ears,
that we are feeling less each day?

How can we sleep knowing
that all what of we move through daily
without giving it  attention
is…

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cheveux

“Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”

– Kahlil Gibran

” I’m not offended by all the dumb-blonde jokes because I know that I’m not dumb. I also know I’m not a blonde.”

– Dolly Parton

“Long hair is considered bohemian, which may be why I grew it, but I keep it long because I love the way it feels, part cloak, part fan, part mane, part security blanket.”

– Marge Piercy

 

cheveux

first appears as down
changing on her own
to anemic gold
braided, ponytail,
teased, bleached,
coiffed
losing her virginité
to clairol
at thirteen – noir
anything was better
than blonde
in those days anyway
teased, sprayed, curled
which never lasted
permanents: a study in frizz
pulled, yanked,
the rope he drug her by
cut over and over
not always by choice
re-cast as RED (more than once)
post divorce
a middle age frosting
decked out for sons wedding
she appears grey
as it grows out
the greys are few
you must look close
thin, fair, straight
shiny
fringed to the lash
imprisoned
by a clip
for her crimes

bisous,

léa