Poem 62 – Ode to my Moustache

Ode to my moustache

soft now
after a pair of weeks
growing
from black dots
in pink skin
like seeds in
tasty fruit
growing
with the hormonal
hurry of my moontime
preparation
tender pimples
distracting my eyes
as you lengthen
into a velvet field
of darkness
growing
despite your right
to be there
I spread cold
smelly Nair over
you in vain
wait ten minutes
feel the tingling burn
then wipe you off
with a tissue
your pieces 
drowning in 
goo
you are the thing
I keep getting rid of
yet you keep
coming back
like a persistent
lover mad with
the foreplay of
kissing my lip
Oh moustache!
I adore your
constant push
for life despite
my reactive 
murdering
you show me
how to emerge
with grace while
accepting the
fate of your 
removal
I learn from you,
moustache
even as I
singe you away
today, my friend
I will leave you
thriving
cover you with
my flowered mask
pet you with my
fingertips as I 
ponder like my
father used to
do with his thick
black mouth mane