Beautiful Uncut Hair
by Lynne Moody
photography by the author

This morning we take first steps
on the new-mown lawn
wander into the green bowl
imagine a salad of trimmings.

I lie down in the celebrated grass
which prickles and itches
like a new recruit’s scalp.

Kinder grown up, tall grass
strokes the arms, caressing
as softly as a silk kimono.

Beautiful uncut hair thrives
above nematodal funeral feasts,
mycelial fruiting and decay

conceals lost engagement rings
incorporates sperm dribbles,
dies back only for cut worms
and dog shit.

But: when left to grow up glossy
and wayward, it will offend
the neighbors, whose rep
breaches our borders
to cite property laws.

We do not rise to arms but submit.
We bring out the mower
raise its blades
and leave islands
for the rabbit pups.

 

Yew Berry
by Yvonne Zipter
photography by the author 

Little red railroad lantern,
tiny hurricane lamp, dark
iris in a red-rimmed eye,
invitation to sweetness,
invitation to death, keeper
of posterity, deceitful fruit,
a heart of poison, you
jewel of the yew, you.

 

–

 

Lynne Moody has worked as a teacher, physician, mother, activist, exhibiting visual artist, and writer.  Born and raised in the South, educated up North, she lives in Atlanta with her husband and their cat, Lucy.

Yvonne Zipter is author of the poetry collections The Wordless Lullaby of Crickets, Kissing the Long Face of the Greyhound, The Patience of Metal, and Like Some Bookie God, two nonfiction books, and a novel.