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.