What It’s Like

by Laura Grace Weldon

So a blind guy
goes to a new barber,
finds the chairs angled and awkward.
The cut he wants? Out of date.
Feels right, he says, hands reaching up.
Naw, says a voice next to him. All wrong.
Discussion ensues.
Keep a hat on, calls a man gruffly.
Or a bag, laughs another.
Someone suggests a goatee.
The room expands in voices.

When he speaks up his voice is certain
and the clamor ends.
His hair is shorn in a way
that leaves his head nearly naked.
As he steps carefully out the door to the sidewalk
his skin jangles.
Surely his freshly exposed ears can hear others
as they turn to see
his scalp savor the sun.

Being published the first time feels that way.