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