Certificate

I’m hunting for my birth certificate

once again

to prove that I exist.

They seem to need convincing.

Isn’t it obvious? I ask

but obviously it isn’t.

They need that slip of paper.

In fact they insist upon it.

Doubting Thomases! I think

almost inviting them to touch me.

But I hold back

almost afraid to touch myself.

What if ….?

Perhaps I’ve gone around kidding myself

all these years.

Yes, I think, that slip of paper would help.

I hunt for it furiously.

If only to convince myself.





Caravaggio's 'The Incredulity of St, Thomas' courtesy of Wikipedia

Awaiting the Verdict

3D_Mars

 

 

From across the room

my eyeball

Eyeballed me on the 10 inch screen,

It’s tracery of veins

A network of canals, the orange-red sphere

the red planet

With a bright yellow centre.

 

Now, said the ophthalmologist,

 Pointing out the dark smudges across its surface

Let’s look for signs of cataracts

And macular degeneration.

She eyed my eyeball closely.

 

I sat forward and awaited the verdict.

 

* photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons