Wednesday, December 26, 2012

CITY OF THE DEAD 
Hovels stretch
Beside the road
Crumbling tombs
Used to shelter
Life even as they
Curtain death
Who lies here?
Who lives here?
Bare existence
Barely exceeds
Non-existence 
Gerald Harris
January, 2011
Cairo

 

 

WATCHING MY FATHER SHAVE 

In the doorway of the dim hallway
I stood and watched you pose
Before the cracked mirror in the
Yellow light of the only bathroom 

Watched you assemble the three-
Piece razor, swirl the frayed brush in the
Soap mug until its foam was
Spread across your seamed face
 

Winced as you drew the sharp
Blade across the stiff gray
Bristles spouting on your cheek,
Spread by fingers to ease the razor’s passage
 

Heard you call for Mama to
Shave the places you could not reach
Even though her careless swipes raised
 Speckles of red down the nape of your neck
 

How proud I was when deputized to
Take her place. How carefully
I stroked to build your trust and
Spare us both the pain of wayward thrusts
 

Only later did I learn you
Viewed shaving as a test
That Life was a series of threats and
Existence hung by a fragile thread
 

Gerald Harris
December 25, 2012