with a clean cut
and sharp edges,
they are still boys.
Once upon a time,
someone cared
for that hair--
shaping each one
so that when they turn
their ears
naively jutted out
from their heads--
and their mothers cried.
They kissed those ears.
They blessed those ears.
The ears that heard soft
cartoons on a Saturday morning
(don't wake mom and dad!)
and later, curses.
and moans.
and war.
sounds not suitable.
Then their hair unfurled
like a ripple in the water
or maybe an explosion
of innocence--
and their mothers cried.
 |
| Photo by Joe Roberts on Unsplash |
