The Razor Poem by 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! '