I Dreamed That You Were Lost
And then I woke and saw
you through an angle
of the mirror, your great falls
of hair dripping purpleblack
into the tub, your neck
straining against the weight,
the gravity, your muscles
thrumming, the carotid
swollen and blue, your entire
architecture open to the world
like I was first opened to the world
under the chattering steel
of the clipper’s teeth, hot
and cold against my skull,
baby curls falling
as I conceded to the machine,
to the knick of an ear
and the steady woundings,
to the incessant hum
of the barber’s full attention.
Like you, I opened my throat
to the mirror but came
back different, razored
close to the bone,
the blade of my face
now sharper, savage,
ready for the next cut.