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<p>A poem by Belinda Lea Bhatia about the day of a hairbush.</p>

Most of the night and day

i lie still                                                                     quiet

until a slender grasp takes hold.


She is so close to my body

but i cannot tell you her name

she captures in violation of the NO


One by one

she moves my edges against the tough mind


then harder and harder

until i sp    lit her to the ____________                end


i don’t have a choice

but to surrender to the senses

to the strokes along the tangled strings.


The black knot remains embedded in me

as if she won’t let me breathe again

my externals are worthless.


She tosses me back where i was

to the trap door again

i am not even clean yet.


Dirty and tired

skinned bristles and brittle locks

but i lie still




until a moment tomorrow and tomorrow


Farrago's magazine cover - Edition Three 2021


Our final editions for the year are jam packed full of news, culture, photography, poetry, art, fiction and more...

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