Thursday, March 17, 2011


TIME CRIME

From every undergraduate I’ve taught,
Quite unbeknownst to them, I’ve swiped one day,
One idle, frivolous day, and not been caught
And added it to those I have to stay—

Or more exactly, from my mounting age
Subtracted it, and thus delayed decay:
Their youth and beauty now work to assuage
The ravages of years on mortal clay.

Should I apologize for my sly theft?
Is this verse recompense enough to pay
For what I’ve taken?  Are they so bereft
As to begrudge me just a single day?

     I’ve spent it all on writing poetry
     Which, good enough, perhaps excuses me.


*