Reading Term Papers
11 May 2007
I don't have time to write a poem
or to compose a song of love.
I have a stack of papers to be read
and scalpeled and graded
until the grating of the words
the hastily approached subject matter,
the too late considered arguments,
the absence of a thesis,
constructs without a plan,
the wreckage of a mental storm
that makes me want chocolate
covered strawberries and ice cream
and a vacation on a desert isle,
barefoot, watching the sunset
and breathing ocean spray.
But the papers are still present.
They're not going anywhere.
Silently staring upwards
with Times Roman eyes,
innocent, expectant, hopeful,
without a clue of what is coming,
of the end of civilization, as we knew it.
I guess someone has to be a martyr,
go willingly into the fray
for the sake of the struggle,
red pen unsheathed, at the ready,
unwilling to give up without a fight,
or, perhaps, just for comic relief.
© 2007, Satya J. Gabriel