fields
when out
of ideas
she cuts
my hair
–
a man who’s been forgiven
has no past
–
my healer
is the main squeeze
of her god’s
pastoral
depravity
–
the plane is coming back
–
at my mother’s cough
the bombings
continue
–
father
retains
his orphan
clout, I lose
–
sight
–
of my hands
that they’ll know
–
what to do
Mind checking out my new Poetry? https://iamjishnu.wordpress.com/2015/10/25/my-goodness/
Oh wow.. a rush of memories watching “Hair” for the first time avalanched as I read this.