C.W. Bryan Poet Haibun

Cutting Her Bangs Again

The mirrored door of our medicine cabinet came off its hinges today. You were searching for the waterproof band-aids you made me buy because every time you have a cut you wash your hands thrice as much. You said it was wasteful to change your band-aid nine times a day.
The mirror crashed, sending your image in shattered fractals in the sink, on the counter, woven in the new seashell bath mat. Thirty or forty or what seemed like a thousand glass pictures of your two month old bangs. So you grabbed the scissors with ease from the newly freed shelf and went to work without a band-aid. Trimming your bangs back two months.

Tiny hairs
on the porcelain sink–
Ants on honeydew

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Ann Peck March 18, 2023 at 5:05 PM This is a fun poem to read, and your imagery is amazing! I could see those hairs on the shattered fractals everywhere. Nice work. C.W. Bryan March 18, 2023 at 5:34 PM That is so amazing to hear! Thank you so much for the comment. I particularly liked that line as well, so glad it resonated with you and so glad you had fun reading it.