Dear Baldy

DEAR BALDY

           dear baldy,

        the snow drives,

      ice binds the mind,

     and numbs the blood,

    frost bites the skull;

    a woolly, bobble hat,

   my son, is not enough

  (oh, Absolom, my son)

    to stop the goblins

    searing your brain,

    exposed, hairless,

     winnowed by winds

           from Siberia;

           a cold spring;

            a thin cranium,

           mega-wally

         of my heart.

                       

...IF JUDGING

             if judging

         me in ignorance

       gives you outrage,

      so be it; my head is

     my head; and in it is

     all that I am, is all

    I shall be; there lie

   the circling promises

     I would bind around

     their broken dream

     of tomorrow; I may

      be odd-ball; hair

            weighs heavy

            in the balance

             of compassion,

            in answering

          their need..

Note:   

For T.J.T. who shaved his head to raise £100 

charity during Cambridge University Rag Week.

 




       (February, 1987)