buzzcut dreaming

glass is the color of holding.
who doesn't want to take off more
of their body? what can be shed
& severed? i was a doorknob 
or a dropped peach in the valley.
winter shucked us & drank our salt.
snow up to my heart. the wind chimes
choked like geese. you were elsewhere
growing your hair long & red.
every mirror asked for a piece
of my long-gone girlhood. our attics
full of intimate dust, sighed when we woke. 
i collected my dead faces
in little jars for later. 
then, i had a sock for storing 
plastic hair. dolls bald as thumbs.
knitting wigs in the dark. hair in
all directions. the trees dreaming
of hair down to their waists.
dreaming of hopscotch & stones.
foot print in my scalp from where
god walked his angels on all fours.
my bed a little coffin floating
in the lehigh river. they windows
of stone buildings turning to eyes.
what body out there isn't watching?
at night, i look up at the moon
& see the back of my own head.
i'm shaving the hair away 
& it's floating down to earth
landing amoung the oldening leaves. 

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