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Kathleen Flenniken | Word Riot
Poetry | June 14, 2010

Three Poems by Kathleen Flenniken

You only get this haircut

from the barber who sleeps with you. It’s the endless attention to your ears

and eyebrows. It’s the wrestling moves. I wield shears, talk brusquely with my hands,

cut off your curls with your head braced between my breasts as you sit almost

calmly. Your bald spot is the view from a glass-bottom boat. No sign of me

down there. Once on a beach vacation you and I watched a wife with scissors

move across her husband’s scalpin a sarong. It ought to have been private

the way she shaved his neck and sideburns.If