(For “The Amazing Johnny Eck”
a.k.a.“Half-Boy”)
A man is not built of parts.
He is whittled from a single wood,
whole. I am half of a set of twins
not half a boy. I walked on my hands
before my brother could stand.
I am not a broken doll or car wreck.
I am the pink elephant in every room.
To some, I am a breathing turtleneck.
A body’s divorce. An unopened dissection.
I have heard and told all of the jokes.
I save money on shoes.
I have plenty of leg room.
I learned to crawl before I could walk.
I had to pull myself up since the beginning.
Even birth certificates demand feet.
Mine shows a blood eel’s fingerprints.
Limp matchsticks.
I was nine when I taught a sparrow to fall
with one finger – my first magic trick.
It was the year I unwrapped a Daisy
air rifle - my last embrace with a gun.
Overtime, my brother learned to saw me apart
onstage. A manager cut my name in half. Speck
by speck I lost more of myself as a sideshow
than before I was born.
Rubberneckers paid their toll.
They wanted to witness miracles
or at least a death as casual as a man
untying his shoes. Carnivals grew
from my wrists. I learned, a hand stand
is the closest man comes to a grounded bird.
www.colinpoet.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem