Imelda Ortega Suzara
'It's so strange...I am missing my razor!
Have you seen it around our house by chance? '
'Missing? Where did you leave it? ' Her lip sore
Was bleeding. 'Why do you have this? ' His glance
Disturbed her. 'My wound? I popped a pimple.'
'I leave it in a glass near a mirror.'
'Is it like a toothbrush? ' Her one dimple
Caught his eye. 'Don't be cute! ' Filled with terror,
She confessed. 'Do not get angry! I borrowed
It.' 'Where is it? What did you use it for? '
'My mustache.' She frowned, feeling both sorrowed
And annoyed. 'Why did you not tell before
Marriage? ' 'Because women who are hirsute
Would be ridiculed in courtship's pursuit! '
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (The Razor by Imelda Ortega Suzara )
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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