Wednesday, December 22, 2010

On Contemplating Grad School

Old professor emeritus
I know without doubt there is a circle of Hell
Reserved for hypocrites such as you
For every mark you stripped from us
May demons strip your flesh
For every threat you uttered
May cenobites pierce your tongue
For every young skirt your old eyes coveted
May venom drip into your open eyes
And succubi pour unscratchable itches in your ears

Old honourable professor
The Heaven in which neither of us believe
Has a throne reserved for you
For every reference letter you wrote
May saints be your character witness
For every mystery you resolved for us
May one be resolved for you
For every human gesture you made
May angels sing you to your rest
And dead poets be your friends

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