Hair Fall

It’s a problem…isn’t it? The strands that fall out of your middle aged head….I heard someone made a movie about it as well…’s  part of a poem I wrote on it.


Follicle by follicle

You deceive


It was in a gallery classroom

We read Rape of the Lock

Then rape was a word

And lock connected with tresses


You leave me behind

On pillows, on sofa covers,

On the white tiles of a white kitchen…….


A symbol of deficiency

A symbol of a spirit gone sour

So much regret  scattered.

Is this how I disappear

Limb by limb?

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