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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