Your hair changed with the seasons, falling

straight with the scent of ammonia and

the tangles teased each morning in your

pointless set of rituals. Those days

it happened to be red, but never mind –

Spring was on its way.


It was days after the operation –

I traced the stitches where I’d kissed,

and began to beg to be let in. You

barely twitched the sheets aside, and

tried your hardest not to move your head

or make any kind of sound.

About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

2 responses to “fracture

  • sarahpotterwrites

    Such poignancy to that poem and so multi-layered in what it conveys. It puts everything into perspective about the futility of hours spent chasing after beauty at a superficial level.

    I have a friend who has naturally pretty hair and is waiting to know if she has to have chemotherapy after an op. She is very philosophical about the whole thing, but then she’s a very spiritual person and not into vanity at all. I don’t think she’ll hide away like the woman in your poem, whatever the outcome.

    Very well written, Benjamin. I love your poetry and must do a catch-up on your blog when I’ve finished with the project that has been keeping me so busy.

  • Benjamin Norris

    Thank you so much!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: