Reflections in a Pool of Hair by Francine J.Harris
You have been standing in a pool of your own hair.
You rub the hair into dirt and pick out crows
you’d like to lift it away.
You take off your socks.
Hand to eyes to block the sun, you look
for someone who looks like you.
You see men in retro glasses, you see men behind
retrofitted glass and men
on black bikes and women with small
piercings in their sharp noses and you see their bad silver
nail polish, you’ve got
bad silver nail polish
and everyone wheezes. You wheeze
and the small gay men at the bar spend sunset
tuning American Idol onto two screens.
They talk like bar glass. In their gravel, they vote singers.
There is a tingle at the back of your throat that holds
the phone on hold and thinks the words
Obama wants to be a palindrome.
You catch yourself in a plate glass window, you catch yourself
in the neighbor’s glass plate, you catch yourself
wondering if you look like your hair
in their windows.
They put away things as soon as you ask about them.
More art by Ben Shahn here.
Recommended listening: Music Won’t Save You – Suuns
Links of the Day: Flying Houses by Laurent Chehere