I’m sorry. It’s time to inflict my “poetry” on all of you again. I haven’t finished writing my post about my weekend in Spain, but I will soon. I came out of a lovely meeting with my supervisor this afternoon, and sat down and accidentally wrote this poem. Sorry.
On the relationship between the PhD supervisor and her or his student
This partially-sighted god straddles my world
All-seeing, all-knowing but not
Saturating my days with judgements he doesn’t know he’s making
Destroying my nights unconsciously
And killing me alternately with kindness and impatience.
I usually profess my love by avoidance
But sometimes hesitantly approach this cracked oracle
Who sits amid lofty papers behind an ugly green door from 1968
And await his pronouncement
Like a pimply suitor at the princess’s court.
And like the carefree princess, this workaday sage does not know
That a word from him can damn me or save me
Can stop my world spinning or can cause it to whirl
Can set my heart a-flutter, can fill my head with noise, can drain me of hope.
Songs teach you about romantic love, and sexual love and family love,
Love of country, love of knowledge, even love of goddamn cycling
But no one tells you of those three or four or five years in your life when love of supervisor trumps all these and fades them all to temporary black.