Who I Am Not
by: E. A. Bartholomew

I. Orpheus

My dog flees from pluckèd strings;
her fleas command my tune.

What hollow body holds a rhyme
as long as my neck’s breath?

I could domesticate myself,
but in taming our lions
we tame our pride.

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II. Abel

My brother is his brother’s keeper.

I am uncle to no abomination.

As we lay in the Garden,
(our hair in the earth)
I question:

Is Heaven above
because our heads are the seat of doubt, or
because our feet are the root of evil?

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III. Hector

I was not breast fed.

I am not a fountain.

I will not hector you.

---

IV. Adam

Even if He and I practice Our secret handshake
in the Sistine Chapel;

Even if He sends me an angelic bath basket
with ambrosial soul cleanser
and holy bubble bombs
(courtesy of The Body Shop);

Even if I am the round reflection
of an ever-changing God;

I still have to ask:

Is Heaven above?
Because my head is the seat of doubt.

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V. Odysseus

Poseidon hardly even knows me.

An idle king in heart
reigns with a swift lead open hand.

Life’s lees are far too bitter,
far too deep,
and the wine is corked.

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VI. Atlas

The sky may fall;
the stellar sphere may crash with all its weight
and music;

god(s) may smite;
the clouds may freeze and bury me;
the sun may swallow me whole;

leaves may drop and leave me bare;
the mist may soak my skin;

I raise my arms only to catch
that snowflake that dares drift upward.