Jacob Saenz
Two Bachelor Poems

b a c h e l o r 


Another year, another hair on my ear lobe. 

What’s the point of plucking? Hair returns like a roach 

after nuclear fallout. On my head, they race 

to the grey finish like the tortoise & hare 

but this ain’t no fable. Rabbit wins & bares 

its white furry ass like a ribbon. I reach 

for my clippers & trim my acre, 

refusing to use any lotion or herb 

to conceal the grey. I’d rather char 

my skull w/coal than use hair care 

products as lethal as bleach. 




b a c h e l o r 


Biting into the apple’s core, 

I see the seeds, small, bare 

& brown. I swallow the last bite, belch 

& toss out the rest like a robe 

falling to the floor. I do not care 

for seeds or kids & somewhere mother is crying. I reach 

for the phone to call her. I brace 

for her sigh when I tell her I’m single again, a crab 

picking & clawing my way across a beach 

full of trinkets & treats. I hear 

her sigh—a howl ringing in my head like an echo. 

Ruby Robinson

Ruby Robinson

Ruby Robinson