Sunday

Sunday

by Tricia Louvar

Hair circles back to my lap. Maybe, I should

Just leave you alone. Yet

Tufts of your dreadlocks salty fingers

And weave into sleeved fabric.

Strands on lobed leaves, clusters

Stalked in the eaves--clog 

The deck until I reach down

Throwing pieces of you to the vireos.

***

Originally published in The Bark Magazine, April/May 2010