Sunday, February 7, 2010

If I Had Absorbed My Twin

She might have
had one shorter leg
which would disclose

the reason for my stumbling
into bedposts,

into prose.


She could have
suffered
from Tourette's
and thus
my intermittent

vocal tics,
profanities.


Or synesthesia.
I would understand
why sounds can hurt:

the touch of words,
and dissonance,
which I can
taste.

Autistic? Yes.
That could explain

my shrinking

in the midst of crowds,

my need to separate,

to fade.


My twin, a poet?
Not a malady,

except in spaces
where the loneliness

of being strange

can't be explained.



(Inspired by Claire Bateman's prose poem "Reprieve" in her collection, Clumsy, where a mother must choose between two children she is carrying, one a human female, the other a pearl, and the chosen girl absorbs the pearl: ...like a pearl, I am mostly a loner, and I tend to surround myself with loners, just as each pearl pierced through by the same golden chain basks in the luminescence of the others even as she secretly believes she's the only one suspended there, and whines, "I'm so lonely.")

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