Imitating Betsy Sholl
Genealogy
One of my parents was a snowman, the other a mailman
One was a leaf, the other a rock.
In the night I’d wake to a beating drum and the faint
Smell of manure.
The trapeze tattooed on my lower back
Is the one for the angel floating through the air.
One of my parents was a mailbox
The other a sailboat I carried into the night,
Convinced it was a mirage.
One of my parents I drank the other I dreamed.
In the revolving door of my becoming,
One present and one sheep.
Thus, my troubled birth, my endless dream.
One was an apple, the other a cobbler.
How they amused each other.
One was a shower the other a plane. I was ashamed
Of singing too loud, embarrassed I couldn't land.
I was a boy calling across the desert to a whale
He didn't have.
