Bush Cutting, by Brendan Cohn-Sheehy

Bushy heads sprawl
in the feral glade,
the stroke of high noon
flicking blades of grass

in sharpening radiance;
shears slice the breeze.
Now look at this manicured lawn,
molded like pressed petals

in a scrapbook.
Look at the trimmings, will you
paste them in your scrapbook? with
pink leaves of magazine pulp

picked up while waiting in the barbershop
where mowers push through our curls,
and steel edges are poised
to scrape stubble from

our streamlined edges.
Now look at us, expecting
a life of slices,
buzzing from haircut to haircut.
 

Brendan Ian Cohn-Sheehy is a musician, writer, and aspiring neurologist who thoroughly enjoys a pot of McCann’s slow-cooked Irish oatmeal. Traversing the ocean of night, he orients to Orion’s splayed scabbard.

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