Leviathan

Today I saw myself
within a rippling pool
my image a cyanotype version
of something inside,
something just below the opaque
reflection, so I get on my knees
offering my hand, I reach in deeper
into the cool depths of the liquid
and recoil it in shock,
my hand and brow moist with revelation,
there are some things
I would rather not remember.

I have noticed that I started a two of the previous poems with a description of hair. I love hair, maybe it is because I have a mom who is a hairdresser, but to me, there is nothing like feeling soft hair on freshly-shaved skin. It has a huge emotional attachment for me, I am afraid that I will someday fall in love with a girl simply because of her unusually soft hair.

Shotsie

Long flaxen hair
lifted from the boxes of christmas
past, each bundle put on the tree
the golden strands connecting
me to my past self,
like those telephones of cups
and string, practicing telepathy.

And I found out something of great
importance from my snot-nosed self:
you see Nana had a cyclops dog
with one creepy eye that would stare at you
like one of the fates,
gasping and growling with prescience
and asthma, and I was terrified
of this omen-bringer.

but one day I put my ear close to hear
what the ancient oracle had to say,
she whispered to me in rough iron words:
"Speckled adder and ebony crow
you will walk a path where none else go,
through skeletons wet with mourning dew,
you will become what you never wanted to."