by Neil Ellman
I am the something-or-other
born of this and that
neither one nor the other
fish nor fowl, evolving nor evolved,
an original what
without a Latinate name
apart from the others
who were my other halves
I seek another to replicate
whatever I am
to speak the language
only I can understand
in an alphabet of letters
without any form
myself, too, without a face
to call my own
I am alone
a stranger even to myself
an anomaly of time
and circumstance
the great mutation
one of a kind.
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