The barber has accidentally taken off an ear. It lies like
something newborn on the floor in a nest of hair.
Oops, says the barber, but it musn’t’ve been a very good
ear, it came off with very little complaint.
It wasn’t, says the customer, it was always overly waxed.
I tried putting a wick in it to burn out the wax, thus to find my
way to music. But lighting it I put my whole head on fire. It
even spread to my groin and underarms and to a nearby
forest. I felt like a saint. Someone thought I was a genius.
That’s comforting, says the barber, still, I can’t send you
home with only one ear. I’ll have to remove the other one. But
don’t worry, it’ll be an accident.
Symmetry demands it. But make sure it’s an accident, I
don’t want you cutting me up on purpose.
Maybe I’ll just slit your throat.
But it has to be an accident . . .
Accidents
Analysis, meaning and summary of Russell Edson's poem Accidents
Do you have any comments, criticism, paraphrasis or analysis of this poem that you feel would assist other visitors in understanding the meaning or the theme of this poem by Russell Edson better? If accepted, your analysis will be added to this page of American Poems. Together we can build a wealth of information, but it will take some discipline and determination.
