“Trespassers” – A Poem


My hairdresser

pressed his fingers against my scalp;

my teller

had her eyes in my transactions;

my plumber

had his tools in my bathtub;

my physician

stuck his swab down my throat.


I get nervous thinking

how much of my private life

is in the hands of others.


In a society that sanctifies privacy

none of these should be tolerated.


Time to see my psychologist.


(Editor’s note: poet Shai Ben-Shalom, an Israeli-born biologist, examines current events in the Blacklock’s tradition each and every Sunday)

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