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In its color alone,
my beard is the sun falling upon the evening
and some days
it is chaffing brambles, poison
sumac, creeping red vines everywhere.
.
On other days, it is the nest I never want to leave
even if that means not
finding someone to pull my beard
softly toward her.
.
And when my beard lowers on the ocean,
its tendrils flicker and break
the horizon line.
.
And at that setting point, I wish for my beard
to have fishing hooks
on each strand’s end,
.
for we are always wanting—
those of my hair color. King David even took
a 16th wife for nothing
.
but the last few seconds
of his life
just to warm
him up
to the hereafter.
Copyright 2019 Baruch November. From Bar Mitzvah Dreams published by Main Street Rag.