Not Letter-Perfect
They told me to expect an L-shaped scar.
I pictured a right-angle intersection,
Tall vertical meets shorter bottom bar,
But that’s not what I see in my reflection.
The scalpel diagrammed a different plan.
Instead of clock hands fixed at twelve and three,
Lines nearly equal spread a wider fan.
In this shape, L stands for lopsided V.
I learned my letters many years ago,
So when I see this rune carved on my belly,
I know he saved my life, yet also know
The surgeon’s two incisions don’t look elly.
Extra Large
How big is it? It’s quite the paragon.
The doctors say I dwarf most other guys.
Do I rejoice in this phenomenon?
No, they’re referring to my prostate size.
Chris O’Carroll is the author of three poetry collections—The Joke’s on Me, Abracadabratude, and Quantum Creed (reviewed here). In addition to being a Light featured poet, he has poems in New York City Haiku, Extreme Sonnets, Love Affairs at the Villa Nelle, The Great American Wise Ass Poetry Anthology, and multiple volumes of the Potcake Chapbooks series.