Of death
the barber
the barber
talked to me
cutting my
life with
sleep to trim
my hair-
It's just
a moment
he said, we die
every night-
And of
the newest
ways to grow
hair on
bald death-
I told him
of the quartz
lamp
and of old men
with third
sets of teeth
to the cue
of an old man
who said
at the door-
Sunshine today!
for which
death shaves
him twice
a week