by Orel Protopopescu

There’s nothing titillating in a tittle,
a silly-sounding word for what’s so little,
you might say that it’s almost microscopic.
So why should I expound upon this topic?

All things accrue, one tittle at a time,
and tasty snacks may add up to a crime.
The sugar that once made you energetic,
now plots to make you plump and diabetic.

For good or ill, a tittle has the power
to make or break a sentence or an hour.
Combined with other tittles, then, who knows?
An air force can be grounded when it snows.

One Bang! transformed the infinitely small
into space-time, our paradise and fall,
ballooning from a tittling spark that roared
to form vast galaxies, still unexplored.

Now spring advances with unseemly speed,
precipitating growths from mutant seed,
and toiling tittles, feeling less than blessed,
make revolutions, or at least, protest.

So tittles of the world, rise up, unite,
before some self-inflating troglodyte,
the tittles of his brain ablaze with lust,
turns sub-atomic tittles into dust.