Essay on Ontology
Essay On Ontology-
Aren't they a trinity of unused parts?
Proof of the mechanic watch-maker?
This tonsil. This appendix. These teeth
so endowed with a primeval wisdom for shattering bone.
Nothing was rent from Adam’s side, instead
these three vestigial magi slouched
after some faded starlight in a world, moderately new,
into the first man still warming to his second breath.
Man was an ape! Man was an ape!
My mother refuted such notions,
swearing, as she did, on the family bible,
its great sharp-edged block of red-lettered pages
squatting despotically on the coffee table
next to House and Garden,
that "Adam would have named
snakes lizards if they'd had legs!"
But Man is an ape, was an ape, and I'm ape,
and it becomes me. It's a matter of pride,
as I kneel in with the razor over the bathroom sink,
my morning chore of modeling the man,
after waking and finding my Eve, busying herself--
not counting the keys of the chest's accordion
but squeezing her breasts, probing
for a dull lump, doughy and knuckle-round,
like a serpent's egg. She's found nothing yet,
and I propose a future uncluttered of that knowledge
or any other related to these portents,
even if only tonsils, appendix, sagacious teeth.
I want none of them: nothing from the accounts
of pus and sickness, not one.
So I'm writing an essay to no body in particular.
I’m waiting in his vinyl chair for the surgeon’s
mask and pliers and oxide. I'm praying in paragraphs
for the none of it that’s my share,
although my gums bob already with things
prehistoric and waiting to arrive.