All of us is known, from a to z
be we of XX or XY
chromosomal mix.
Double helix is our law,
encoded in ladder hooks of AGTC. No V
for velocity, victory or vice, just you,
genial genius or not—
he/she not versus,
it is him or her—
jelly of we. Mind you, no peas or big Q
knitting brows, mapping or mopping up
lakes of genes to pass along. No
memento of eyes unknown, blue or brown,
not grand’s but great-great’s red hair, no new prism
of skin color, traits of kind or trail of evil.
Perhaps now seers can look:
q is for quotient as in DNA of quince, Raj,
reebok, jellyfish and I
sharing 90 some % of our sequined selves with
this stranded world, all of us living
under the same primordial sky. But what if
vanquished ones came back to life?
Would dodos, say, if they could…
x over that oozy c;
yes, then add another bird, as in b,
zero out the ass, or at least its a.