Your Hair of Snakes and Flowers

When I saw one of those men touch your hair,   

I heard for the first time in many a year

the ancient battle trumpets and I saw

the banners of an army winding off to war

and felt that blind power urging me to knock

him out with one punch, send him tumbling to the floor.

If nobody had held me back, stopped me,   

I would—God help me—have killed him on the spot,

stomped out his blood, and spit in it. I'm sorry,

but you must be aware your winding hair   

is different now, a hornets' nest, a snakes' lair!

Yes, like a ball of snakes in a flower basket, dear.