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