That which sparks between my ears

Enters orderly, in charged lines.

Not just what cerebrum hears,

What toe, disc, bone, gut, declines

Or agrees to relay from the world:

Circuit, switchboard, protest, command,

Law, shocks, message, flags unfurled.

The arc from brain to nerve to hand

To key to screen to branching mind,

A canopy, as trees have, throwing shade

And mystery on all the sparks you’d find

If it were all not born, but made.


-Peri Dwyer Worrell


Peri Dwyer Worrell grew up on a Puerto Rican street in New York, gaining a keen appreciation of diversity, tolerance, and taking no crap from anyone. After 30 years as a physician, Peri expatriated to Latin America. Peri now writes books, poetry, and travel blogs, and edits science articles freelance.