Runcible Spoon

poetry and prose webzine

Poetry Prose Submissions Contributors Home heart logo Privacy Notice Links Steve Klepetar

Even Now

 

Thinned out after all these years, it stands

straight up when I remove my stocking cap.

“Look!” says my wife. My granddaughters laugh,

trying with their little hands to pat it down.

It bounces back, a spring ready for action,

too alert for its own good.

It’s a lawn growing in fast motion,

a jungle canopy spread across my scalp.

Never bored, it always has something planned,

a surprise to embarrass me –

forms a picket fence above my forehead,

tangles like Medusa’s drunken cousin in the rain.

I threaten it with shears and goo,

but in midnight quiet I hear it laughing

to itself, wicked gnome bereft of conscience or regret.