Suzanne Edgar: Six Poems

The Haircut   I felt especially honoured when allowed, this once, to take a pair of scissors and, ever so timidly, gingerly, trim a few silver curls from your beloved head.   I snipped a few tufts to even up the back then stopped, afraid to go beyond the bounds of what was necessary. Zeal was inappropriate.   When I bent to sweep them up, the few fallen tendrils, and throw them into the dustbin, I thought to myself, perhaps I should have kept some, saved them for later.       Moonset 6 a.m.   This morning on the…

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