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


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            Emanuel E. García, The Virtues of Calamity, One Hundred Poems2013