Dip Your Hair in Me

She swirls her fingers

along the straw

and draws, the puddles

among the shapes;

the foolishness

whose strings

don’t attach.

Her hair and poses.

For whom?

I saw her smile and

dance those steps.

Backwards touching toes

and swirling lips;

feeling breath, touching eyes.

Dipping and forming shapes;

of softness and color.

Dip your hair in me.

Tiptoe my neck and gently bruise;

my arm, my sight in dark.

I heal.

Barry Comer 2012

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About Barry Comer

I volunteer as a design and communications consultant with Family Scholar House in Louisville, Kentucky, http://www.familyscholarhouse.org the Democratic Socialists of America http://www.dsausa.org and teach children with emotional and developmental disabilities. I have degrees in art and was an art director for 30 years.
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