Poetry: Two Versions


Two Versions

I wonder what you would have been like

If you had been born and raised

In a world without tradition,

Without specifications, without scripts.

In one version, I see you scampering

Out of the womb towards a dark cave

Where you crawl to the back and shiver

In moist paroxysms of rejection.

But I dislike that rendering and so I imagine

A child and woman filled with endless fascination

For experience and sensation, chasing butterflies

And souls with equal rapture.

Growing with the sun as melody to rhythm,

Syncopating on occasion to unnerve

The symmetry, dashing any impression

Of habit or rite.