MY BEARD

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I am falling further into my beard 

its silence, its solitude, its unity,

its fullness, its freedom,

its hopeful gray-white future.

 

I am falling further into my beard

its forested isolation,

its memory, its promise,

its past unlike anything

I’ve imagined the past to be.

 

I am falling deeper into my beard 

because it has no use 

because it does not sing or play the French horn 

it does not desire 

it does not collapse of its own weight 

          or drown in the puddles left by icicles 

          dripping themselves away in the brilliant afternoon sun 

it does not picture itself among the mailboxes along the street 

          wishing it were taller 

          wishing it were in love 

          wishing it were someone else.

 

I am settling into my beard

because it does not tell lies

it does not try to sell me anything

it makes no promises and never reminds me 

          of the ones I could not keep

it is a straight shooter

it recovers lost dignity

it allows me to sleep until I decide to wake.

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BIO:

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​Lou Ventura lives Olean, NY. His poetry and prose have appeared in several publications including The Worcester Review, English Journal, Sledgehammer, and Sein und Werden. His poetry collection, Bones So Close to Telling, is published by Foothill Publishing. 

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