wild hare

Tufts of hairy crabweed

sprout from my temples

like crazy hemp

in the rabbit hole

of an all day tea party.

I happen to descend

from a whole line

of fertile Mad Hatters,

resistant to most sanity.

My forebears flattened

theirs in Brylcreem

with results even Bonaparte

would envy.

The edges stuck out

from my father’s flattop

and grew to a hedge maze

that hid him from me,

like a mock turtle.

willow, 2010