Dying confession

Known largely as the undyeing
Now about to die,a head of hair
A self-confessed undying head
Makes confession on deathbed.

This wind is a source of chimes
And I make confession to birth,
A swaddle cloth smelling child
Doing reference work on a sin,
Like Sexton born without sex
Trying to confess others ‘ sins.

We will not paint sinful heads
In a wind that will quickly die.
Being alloted births in a train,
Sex is tricky on upper berths
And yet we confess our births.

(Reference Anne Sexton’s poem “With Mercy For The Greedy“)