For Mab
An embarrassment of white beards
clogged the lecture hall.
Brendon struggled gamely on with the seminar;
some rolled their old eyes,
others chewed in languid, pugnacious circles.
Set texts gave beneath hard jaws,
syntax and semiotics a sudden washing machine nonsense,
the sagacity that played across their faces
like potato bugs.
Sometimes a bell rang,
its clapper muffled with lank hair.
Sometimes, their mute gaze seemed to focus
like a laser.
No comments:
Post a Comment