Poetry

 

 

Adrienne Hernandez

The Barber

Her mewing awakens him.
He reaches over, pets Baby
who sleeps at the foot of the bed,

calculates that she is as old as he
in cat years which he finds remarkable,
dresses in layers, puts a second cap

over the first and leaves for work,
grateful his bony fingers
are still nimble enough to cut hair.

It's not so much the cutting
he enjoys but the time
between clients,

when he can contemplate
the pigeon on the sidewalk.
The barber does not know today

his scissors will fall
from his hands.

 

Tiny Kitchen

peeling ceiling
dumbwaiter
wooden table
egg beater
Mason jar
silver thimble
red pencil
threaded needle
cling peaches
pinking shears
blackened skillet
Duncan Hines
bundt pan
letter stencils
yellowed shade

her face at the window

 

 

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