Child Of Genius Poem by Lori Boulard
Child Of Genius
'I Love You, Baby, ' you recite mechanically,
never parting eyes from paper, the 'baby'
always snagging as if thinly veiling 'but..'.
Numbers are your children, rowing up
neatly for rollcall, orderly, stating
their Greek birth names proudly.
You speak to them a language
with its heart extracted; arguing infinity
while I count one on flower petal fingers.
Omegas have rooted where embraces
lack. A certain skin roughness marks
missed kisses. There is no measurable anger,
no theories of damage to defend.
Love can be proven scientifically.
It is the art of it that puzzles.
Lori, This is an excellent poem. You left some skin in this one. Very well crafted work. A pleasure to read you. Carolynn
I love your flower-petal fingers, always use them to write your poetry! !
Another intrestin poem (another referrin to the 'hamster' one) . That's a very sophisticated and idiosyncratic technique you got.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 11:20:39 PM # 1.0.0.1119
i've enjoyed it Lori, the rollcall made me laugh a bit at the end, i felt also compassion for the children and the father, next time tell me what the children have becomen... cheers Albert