“Mustache,” by Sam Kilkenny
Apr 20th, 2024 | By Defenestration
This poem is delightfully small. We won’t spoil it with a preview!
This poem is delightfully small. We won’t spoil it with a preview!
Mr Darwin, prickly and aged bachelor biology teacher
At a public school I will not name,
Stood lab-coated before a class of rowdy troglodytes each Friday,
Who mocked his every feature, every foible—he
Being the only specimen they ever cared to examine,
Microscopically.
A. pages of books
B. clocks & meeting times (“midday” & “sundown” no longer suffice)
C. ounces of water, tea, wine
I.
In bed, back propped up against
two pillows wearing your alma
mater sweatshirt.
I have no truck
with planning ahead, and thus
from a frosted upstairs window
watch my forlorn Mini Cooper disappear
beneath a white shroud
(and who knows
what the kid next door will charge
to dig it out)
a larger concern is the wind–
well, not the wind