A Short Tribute to My Genealogical Butcher Chart
Poem
If you were to parse me Like meat on a banner You’d find all my ancestors In parts or in manner.
Dissect the whole of me You’ll find them there. One in my eye color. One in my hair.
Which great-great loved words— Like sausage all mingled In Swedish or German— Some rhyming or jingled?
Which father loved fibers? Which mother loved clay? Which one had my hip bone With sensuous sway?
Which ones—like the giblets With uncertain uses— Could wiggle their ears or create great excuses?
From their loins I sprang. I’m glad for each part, For DNA shared with my Own unique heart!