Moustaches

Dali's moustaches Were tuned in to the stars. Hitler's was merely a typewriter ribbon Over the clacking steel of his words Europe in mourning underneath his nose. The laughing Chevalier's Was choc-a-block with beer Whilst Kitchener's was kitsch. How like hedges grow the world's moustaches! They hibernate in winter Icicle bound and brittle. Soup creeps up their stems Pea green, tomato, Even Chinese lentil Abseils along their strands Hercule Poirot's was stiff As a Welsh Life Guard But a mandarin's dangled like liquorice Sly and Oriental Eminently knottable, suckable, Machiavellian. Doused in drams Moustaches curl and bristle Like porcupines Or walruses on parade Moustaches of the world, We salute you Razors are sharpening a little to the left The sinister side... Droop, droop, You may evolve into a beard.