Fallen Trees



He was well known in his field,
but fell in a scandal
between the ideologies of hot and cold.
To make their papers,
students have already begun to deconstruct
the knowledge he had gathered around himself,
measuring the rings around the eye of his heart,
hoping to uncover
the history of his wet and dry years.

Across town,
a widow weeps for him,
her tears littering the sidewalk
as she submits to the clippers
of an ignorant barber,
selling her hair,
her born identity,
to reveal her bare legs,
unshaven.

Who weeps for the weeping widow,
cut up like a toy poodle,
showing off her secrets in the prison yard,
flattened and cleared for the sake of security?
Her tresses will regrow
to obscure the lines in her face.


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