This entry is part 10 of 41 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Autumn 2012


Bend your head, I say to the child
who steps out of the bath,

so I can rub this film of oil
on your nape
. And as she does,

her long dark hair falls down;
and in it is the dusk of leaves

from the resinous woods;
and sunlight’s indelible

musk in the softest
spot of the crown.


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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