// Archaelogy of my beard
It's been ten years, I think,
since I last spent a day
without some stubble on my chin.
So, though it's not exacly bushy,
still, a little tribe – a small one, granted –
could have settled one of my cheeks,
without my noticing;
explored what lies beyond the jaw-ridge,
made a quiet war one night
with neighbors from the sideburn –
screaming silent insults,
clenching teeth in battle rage
to hide their presence from their host.
Victorious, they might have
headed along the Coast of Ear,
to find the vast expanse of Back
so sparsely vegetated,
as to leave no fine oasis for a colony –
and disappeared one day,
leaving behind naught but a mound
or two with funerary gifts
and skeletons of tiny horses,
shards of pottery,
and, here and there, a standing stone
to the frustration of my razors.
from 'Nomadicism'
