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I’m the two-headed calf in formaldehyde.
A bit more dramatic than the three legged chicken
down the hall, next to the world’s largest brain,
I possess the ooo qualities of a good looking pair
of Siamese twins though I’m missing the mysticism
of the dimpled Janus baby goddess in Pakistan.
I’ll never be exploited beyond my glass jar,
having escaped the creepy sensationalism
of the Philadelphia Mutter Museum’s
Sheep-boy; my paternity is certainly
that of a real bull and not some Welsh cock.
No Leda for a mother, no spawn of a swan -
my nose is not where my horns should be.
© Marcy Jarvis
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Comments (2)
July 26th, 2008 at 3:33 am
delightful and surprising inspiration…Thanks for the poem.
yann
July 27th, 2008 at 11:25 pm
Interesting write, Marcy. Love the title.
Ida