Your weight settles
As your day lifts
*
You drift
*
All the way onto that wood booster
And feel your good shoes
heel into the red leather
Your collar clipped tight
Your could-be cape frontward
*
You mirrorwitness
In serious eyes
Their solemn agreement
And handshake nod
*
You are his now
Compliant
As you tilt a bit here
Turn a bit there
Dutifully still
Through the electric thrill
Sink into the pull/tight/hold/combslap-snip of wet hair
And the final always drip
Over unwrinkled brow
Like a communion tear
*
You sigh now
And cross your outstretched feet
As you offer your contented neck
Sacrosanct
To his once again father hands
About the Creator
Ward Norcutt
Playwright and poet.
My goal as a writer is to write thoughtful pieces of prose, poetry and stage plays. Hopefully, the end results are entertaining and engaging, with layers of meaning that make sense to the whole or a theme therein.
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Comments (2)
This is gorgeous. I gain no pleasure from people touching my hair, and this helped me "get it".
I thought of a massage chair! Good poem.