Darwin's Beard

Darwin's Beard

Often, he would trim it on a Tuesday,

lining up his accoutrements

from longest shear to alum block,

a man of grand ideas but simple pleasure

mesmerised by the blacksmith's art,

admiring the pivot and opposing grip,

the leaf-sprung tension and tapered blank.

With blades rustling through his outlands

he would imagine a predator, belly-down

in stubbled turf, perceive

the occasional flash of a hungry eye;

lantern light and stainless steel

conspiring to deceive a willing mind.

In his later years he would pluck

the few remaining blacks out

one by one, would trap them

between his tweezer's teeth and turn

them slowly over a candle's flame,

savouring the smell of death,

of time's brute confirmation.

~

Appears in Snakeskin 182