Barberian

This time I walked into the place on my own.

My first job meant I had to lose all that I’d grown.

I sat in the chair and remembered back when

it wasn’t my choice, but now its my sin.

The first time I was lured with lollipops and the promise of ice cream.

Like a lamb led to the slaughter, I didn’t know what was happening.

The big men filled up the place like misled slaves,

patiently waiting their turn to be shaved.

I thought Dad had some business and we wouldn’t be long,

which was okay with me cuz the place felt all wrong.

The men argued about nothing and laughed just like fools.

I kept close to my Dad, and tried to keep cool;

and watched their eyes watching me -

old toothless dogs remembering fresh meat.

The walls were decorated just like a museum

with pictures of victims and the barbers who slew them.

Heads on display to showcase the skill

And the style of the cuts that were made for each kill.

On the counters were kept all the weapons they used -

special scissors and blades and machines that were toothed;

and although it looked just like an electric chair,

I climbed in, like one would get on a ride at the fair;

I got a bit nervous when one pulled out a sheet

and, like an undertaker, draped it over me.

I looked at my Dad, whose eyes said it was okay

And relaxed thinking this was just some kind of play.

But my heart beat a little faster when the man turned the chair,

Looked me over, tilted my head, and put his hand in my hair.

And when he picked up one of those cold steel instruments

my eyes got real wide and I was ready to call it quits.

But when they both held me down so that I couldn’t get up

I was alarmed, got wet-eyed, and started squirming and stuff

Their voices were muffled behind my heart in my ears

I was breathing hard and fast, my head filled with fear

I don’t remember what the first time looked like;

I just know when we left, I was emotionally traumatized.

I didn’t give a damn about ice cream or lollipops at all;

I felt betrayed, sold out, by my Dad of all people!

The sun flashed in her eye, the knife, and her teeth all at once

as she laid the blade upside my head like a priest

about to sacrifice every unkempt expression of my masculinity

wild antennae grown from thoughts and memories

of my own stories… the curly vines of life pulled into straight lines

to stretch their throats, and cut the chords of voices

I called conscience, which kept me conscious

And just before her scissors feasted on my natural vegetation

I cringed, eyes closed tight, and cried a voiceless prayer of forgiveness.

The snip that severed me from my past immediately lightened me,

and the air got in my hair, like Delilah’s cool breath

and I felt new,

a cub again,

when I had been a lion.

©04.30.2018 ebn