scratch, scratch, SCRATCH!!

months of built-up mane and plumage
fall off in droves
matted clumps of fur float thick in the air
rotted feathers begrudgingly drop like the last stubborn leaves in november
unbuckled scales descend in spastic spurts like unbridled torrential rains
what once were connections that seemed all important,
– discards that no longer serve

newly exposed skin raw and tender
epidermis yearning, aching, longing
insatiable need to rub against rough bark
against a new horn or lover
against the rigidity of firm creeds and dogmas
against untested pipe dreams and flights of fancy
against the raw, nakedness of scary open mics
against anything that might offer relief

the uncomfortable molting
between the what was
and what is to be
Good bye & Good riddance!
– wedded to the urgent expectancy of a full term re-birth
Come baby! Come!

one’s entire self like a recently shaved armpit
growing stiff new stubble

and brother, does it itch.

roger wolsey
october 9, 2009