Headline from New York Times, May 3, 2016
His girlfriend told the cops that he left
for the hair salon, maybe
with a cup of coffee
four sugars, sweet enough
to make molars ache,
and walked below
the awning with its sign,
Braids and Weaves.
I didn’t know cement takes
twelve hours or more
to harden in February,
and I imagine
an empty warehouse:
a man bound to a chair,
head wrapped in duct tape.
Bare legs in a tub, cold
rising through his boxers.
A slow tightening around his feet,
his shins.
He was younger than my son.
He had time
to remember,
memories flickering like channels
changing on tv: his girl’s eyes
half-closed, her glossed
pink lips, the hair stylist’s scent
of almond oil, and her upraised
comb, his reflection in the mirror
nodding yes, as his life
dwindled down, until he
was slid into the river
and was gone.
Aileen Bassis is a visual artist in Jersey City. Her practice in book arts, printmaking and photography led to another creative life as a poet. She was awarded a residency in poetry to the Atlantic Center for the Arts. Her poems have appeared in B o d y Literature, Spillway, Canary, Pinch Journal, Minetta Review, Stone Canoe and Leveler Poetry.