She Cut Her Curls
Trees of Oak and Chestnut,
at opposing sides of my kitchen,
as I, a leaf, dwell in the centre.
A maiden, see, cut her wig
’till the carpet was adorned with curls,
and grasped within coldness, then
she ripened to step away.
For her, he held his breath,
with respect to the branches; watchful
inclined to lean their way.
His lips and the leaf’s did hug
as platinum was placed upon fingers,
and the kitchen decorated by time
was left to the newly weds.
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