Sunday 27 April 2008

A short'un


Because of the wild sea air


It's only here, my half-home,
where my hair lies flat.

Back there it is always a curling
imitation of itself, my fringe parted

clean in the middle like a slice
out of a pie. Here, the clipped

breezes that bellow round city-
planned corners leave it straight

in defiance of a self
I haven't yet placed.

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