Hair
Hair
– Harry and Nicola
I can push charcoal into any hip
Chiaroscuro shade any lip
I can drag particles of dark
Around any stark form
Form a voluptuousness
From her belly and light
Canberra nights, secret evenings
Behind closed doors
Winking light from the drapes
Naked forms taking shape
But her hair
But her hair
How to render her hair
Not a thumb
Not a smudge
Not a twist
Not a wash
Not a scratch
Not a line
Like the arch of her brow
Or the curve of her spine
Her hair, her hair
Its lustrous sheen, flowing over her breast
None can decipher
Not even our best