Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Prime Meridian

The difference between me and you
is that, well, you are more alphabetical
and I am more numeric.
My God is better than your god,
who you don’t believe in anyway.

The difference between you and me
is skin color, eye color. The length
of your fingers? Spidery. Mine
are worker’s fingers. I live in the city,
you live in the country, and we all
know how important geography is.
You can’t live on the equator,
but you can sail over it and kiss
the fat belly of Neptune,
and become a Shellback,
maybe, if you’re tough.

The difference between you and me
is that you need to crawl through
rotting garbage, and I just have a raw
egg in my mouth. Your great-grandparents
were hit with short lengths of a firehose
while mine wore gloves for tea.

The difference between you and me?
Your opinions, voiced in status updates
on a daily basis, count. Your voice
is heard. Me? I don’t have
a public voice without an online
presence, so my ideas just knife
the air.

The difference between
me and you is, well, you are Filipino,
or Korean, or whatever, and I am
German or English or whatever.
All my relatives
are in silver frames,
and never had sex.

This means nothing, no,
everything in the world,
a glass of milk held up to the moon.

Your war is my war, brother,
we each have blood we need inside
our veins, alphabetical
or numeric. We crawl
on our hands and knees,
heads shaved, as we
hope to cross together
at the prime meridian.


Jodi Anderson said...

Ah, this was a nice read over morning coffee. Thanks, Jenny.

Michael Scholl said...


Anonymous said...

Holy cow! What a terrific poem! You're on a roll!

Indigo Bunting said...