Bellinger2

J o h n  M.  B e l l i n g e r

next

The Barber, Shaving

Suppose that, in a village, all men must be clean-shaven.

By law, there must be a man in the village (the barber) who shaves those and only those men in the village who do not shave themselves. Does the barber shave himself?

Loneliness is the paradox here.

Men walk by my window, rubbing their chins

out of habit, surprised by their skin.

They have taken conversation,

have taken their newspaper wisdom and tips,

their raincoats and black oxfords;

that sound of the bell on the door.

This warm towel,

this mug of pale foam,

none of this is love

of the sort we never mention.

Every day I lay this razor to the strop.

I have keened it to a brilliant edge.

It catches the last of the four o’clock sun,

It waits poised at my throat to begin.