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number 59
P O E T R Y by Darrell Fike |
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| Buddha at the Barbershop The barber tilts my head forward in a prayerful pose the clipper's buzz fills my ear like a humming chant eyes close breath comes goes comes and for a moment this moment is all there ever was then the murmur of the radio as he switches to the scissors tiny tips of silver spilling from the comb as he snips and smoothes trimming away what has been to make room for what will be then he swivels me into my reflection so that I might see see the dead eyes of the mounted deer heads sparkle see the scuffed linoleum floor tiles and split vinyl chair cushions shimmer see the dusty bottles of miracle root tonic and cans of scented talc shine and outside on the sidewalk Buddha blesses the spinning stripe of the barber pole and steps inside. |