Tentative title: “Second Child Puppet Show”
I am consistently reminded
of how tenuously the chords
of my existence were played.
I am both a last try,
and a last opportunity
Can you believe?
the last drop of DNA used—
to compose my half a brain.
I live in the scarecrow realm
consistently distracted by
my own processing speed
so that my potential plays
as background music
a not unpleasant humming
full of middles and endings
I am created by the
will to compose.
The basis of my existence
is it’s proximity to fraternity.
It would have been better
to leave the shell of my role empty,
than to have a daughter
half the same as her brother.
