Mr. C
gone the last arcing ripple
of a stone thrown—
the least degree of intimacy
and with it
unassisted memory
but the ones who persist
had something more
Mr. C for instance
our teacher
his moustache lab coat
tall lithe frame
exploding Einstein hair
was it the word that spread
over summer break
that he’d been pulled to life
from the black centre of his home
soaked in kerosene
a match ready to light
was it the feat he was known for
how every first day of class
arm straight and rigid
his shoulder the hinge of a compass
he’d turn and with one windmill sweep
leave a chalk circle on the board
as diametrically perfect to the eye
as any super moon on a bright night
or was it more
his daily ministering
to our callowness—
stewardship of lab partners
-mine Paul Adair-
bunsen burners
chemical reactions
guide to exactitude:
incisions into the white
and tender belly
of a frog
intimacy gone yes
but for what persists:
the shock
the wonderment
5 Comments
3 more comments...No posts
This is one of my favourite Alan Girling poems. Love the balance between details of callow kids and lab equipment with the bigger story of the man. And of course that perfect supermoon circle on the board. Thank you!
Always love your poems Alan..
I too have a piece that I am sharing, do have a look.. in your spare time.
Something different, something magical, something that expresses visually and caligraphically.
https://kallolpoetry.substack.com/p/rootless-existence-a-dissection-through