When the Fly Flew Into My Cut Hair

by: AM Ringwalt

When the fly flew into my cut hair I greeted it
And when I saw my cut hair on the floor I greeted it
And when I saw your face begging for rectification I greeted it
Rectify I mean your sorry-saying
Pointless perhaps but you say it anyway
When the Dutch held Rembrandt on high I greeted him
And when Rembrandt was in my bedroom I greeted him
When he touched his nose to my laminated Iggy Pop poster
The poster melted on my green wall and the light from
My lamp made out of silver chains echoed like the bottom
Of a waterfall
The very bottom
Where no one dreams of going
Maybe the Dutch dream of it when they eat bread
(My friend eats challah and I’m jealous
I greet him with a photo of my shoulder
And I say that I am jealous of his bread
And he misinterprets this I think as unprecedented fondness
I send him down the waterfall I’ll follow eventually)
I asked him: Rembrandt your paintings are so dark and dimly lit
They make me feel vampiric and velvet-covered
Did you mean to do that
And the way you painted Jesus did that come from a vision
Or personal experience
And when my heart was so big it could contain the Middle East I greeted it
And when my hair was drenched in apple cider I wrung it out into a basin
And poured the liquid into Rembrandt’s mouth
Wide and open