Page 1,961 of the Random
House Unabridged Dictionary
is a world of testaceans and testicles,
the latter vulnerable, the former
protected by a bony shell. They squat
among test-tube babies and tessera,
thankfully past caring about Tesla’s coils.
If I’d been born in 1961 with
testicles, would I have married
me? And would we have divorced,
and I have lost the children? Would I,
like you, have grown testaceous,
drawn into the arched and vaulted
safe house I constructed
and now carry on my back?
What if randomness isn’t
random: testaceans deliberately
sidle up to testicles, page numbers
point, every sign leads inward,
each connection presses down?
If life is a test with 1,961 questions,
will I pass? I’d like to ask a turtle
if the shell is worth the weight.
I’d like to ask the Tester,
which tessera am I, a holy tile
in Your mosaic, or merely
a fragment of bone?
Sunday, December 18, 2011
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7 comments:
An extraordinary poem. Although my father and mother were married in 1948, it does sound like a poem for my father to ponder over.
Thanks Glynis! I'm glad we connected on Melody's blog, and that you enjoyed the poem. Mary Carol
WOW, what a great poem!! I used to write poems a long time ago, so I know a good one when I see it...and this was outstanding!!
Thanks Leace! I love hearing from fellow poets! Why don't you start writing again? I'd love to read where you are now in your life. Peace, Mary Carol
I was amazed by your poetic words and enjoyed each segment with great interest and feeling.
Thank you so much for sharing this
Very nice writing and I liked the word choice too...I wonder what is on my dictionary page 1,961?
Beautiful poem, where do you usually write them by hand or on a computer?
Hi Kim, Thanks for checking out my poems! I usually write on computer, though if inspiration strikes in an unusual location, I'll jot the words down on whatever's handy. Do you write poems too? Hug, Mary Carol
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