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 Poems2013