This hair is no longer hair
Not like we knew it
Not strands but thickets
A hard hat of ash
Some proper dust-up

Speckles on a face, in its marks and lines
The cracks and breaks of it all
Tribal, you yelled

This is not an object of note

But those eyes!
Eyes that hurt and that plead and that long
Lived eyes
Yessir eyes
Oh won’t you lend me your hand eyes
Of a perfect white

This neverwas of a place
But this place that could