A Private Lesson in Art It was curious The professor laid down laws For sketching figures And he often closed his hand Upon my own to demonstrate I couldn’t help but notice That beneath his curly hair An eartip had been clipped It made his errant eye More tolerable As he urged my fingers On a line he chose I focused closely on The serried contour of the pinna And ignored his breath Glancing at my mangled work I smiled He smiled, just as broadly, in return It wasn’t long before I put my theory to the test And used my teeth ________________________________________________________________________ Emanuel E. García, The Virtues of Calamity, One Hundred Poems, 2013 |