Poetry (89)

Hello Escritori,

Happy Sunday! I never had a crush on my English teacher. I vaguely thought about my History teacher (at fifteen) because he was a man, alive and capable of debating me.

He really pissed me off actually, more in the tenor of an attractive but off limits rival.

You see, women aren’t SUCH a paradox. I prefer this character though.



As oft as I breathe

I could not believe

That the sword

Of my pen

Would itself condemn

Me, as I went on



Scrawling ever more

Rococo filigrees

Of your name

At the back of my textbook

For Poetry.

Although, for you,

I’d always annotate:



I blame

My youth and your age

(‘In debaat’ as Chaucer would say)

And your marriage

By the way –

As a fantasist

Who hates Geography.

And… loves…

The kindred spirit

In you, and the Brontës.


(© Copyright Pola Negri 12/05/2017)




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