Gene Moutoux's Poetry
Old Mr. Moore
With stoic persistence he sits at his desk grading papers,
Long after students have hollered "School’s over, yahoo."
Unmindful of vogues with their colors, their cuts, and their tapers,
He eschews the superfluous; clothes from the eighties will do.
By meticulous marking of flaws he shows need of improvement,
By punctilious praise he enkindles desire to improve:
To exorcise static expressions in favor of movement,
To pinpoint prosaic expressions one ought to remove.
What will become of my pristine idealist Mary?
Resilient or ruined when reality throws her a curve?
And what will become of salacious guitar-playing Gary?
Musician? Physician? Seditionist? Army reserve?
I wish I could end in a way that would make you all weep.
In verity, Old Mr. Moore in Room Four is asleep.
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