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By Clifton Snider

They come in Pre-Raphaelite curls,
androgynous shoulder-length straight hair,
brown and blond, red and black;
they part their hair like boys,
like surfers, like curly-headed angels;
they razor-cut their sides, then plaster what’s left
in rows on top, they make corn-rows,
crew-cut faces of youth, ears, napes,
divine military cuts, tails, spikes,
sideburns that command my eyeballs
like their earrings, their tank tops, tits,
shoulders, arms, their delicate masculine hands;
their denim, their leather, their slim, tight
trousers, their hairy legs, their toes,
their sacred feet; they walk like warriors,
like tender initiates,–they have no inkling
they are holy. Sacred as ancient herms,
they mark boundaries, invite devotees.

from Moonman: New and Selected Poems (World Parade Press, 2012)

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