Imagine a creature fortunate enough
to possess unique tools that work,
of all things, by opposing. Now add
to the thumbs a cortex capable
of connections guaranteed to best
the most diabolical hacker’s machinations
and a speech-ready mandible and larynx.
Give said creature an instinct for making
the best of light. Left-right brain switch hits
while the creature forms. To give it a sense
of wonder, see it begins at the very beginning.
Ten fingers, ten toes, the halos soon to be
faces, all are firsts. A voice, a rattle, a hum,
a screech. Squeak of a crib, chitter of a bird,
subsonic shifts of an eyeballing cat,
scratch of a branch tiptoeing on glass. Cry
the womb muffled months. Smell
of milk, be it mother’s, soy, or water
and a bitter tasting prayer, barely gasped.
All is innocence: of sadness, of joy,
of fear, of the shape and heft of ball
or bottle. Hunger rages; but rage waits
for innocence to pose the wrong question.
Happens as fast as the cut of a chord
or the flesh that swaddles a penis. First
pain physical. Memory pretty much lets it
go. It is the other kind that throws..
Got blood to stanch, edges to tuck, got
to mop and measure for a makeshift shroud.
Sew, dress, lug, dig, bury. Then the soil
crumbles over a simple offhand remark
or slant of a brow. Foul bits of anger,
confusion and grief are spraying like mad..
Ton of muck mostly guilt and regret
that can jinx if not treated. Rebury
with care. Accept new and old and keep
wonder fresh. Most leftovers are safe to
wrap in the colorful tissue known as verse.
Prop with flowers, notes, and bears
been left to show care. Best
creature comfort, right there.


       (c) Phyllis Jean Green, May, 2007