the phone calls would come —
just after dinner time She would reach out
across the miles and connect through a coiled cord —
“ah-huh — he’s here — yes, Hadrian’s Wall — got it —
I’ll tell him — yes, of course — I love you too, Mom”
express more fully and in greater detail
and my eyes would open, dilate with purpose
and I’d fan out as my curiosity increased
bolstered with my mission to serve,
to prove, be, become, be seen, I’d search
the spines of the 23 volumes of Britannica
hake a family of fish in northern oceans
don’t over cook or it will dwindle
hades son of cronus — also a place
the ancient greeks — wait: did it enlarge
become distended, swollen over the years? —
and there, with Hadrian, my cheeks
would outstretch into a smile and my
nine year old chest, would rise,
puff up and I’d be ready for Her
aggrandizement to be magnified
in Her steady, unyielding, wave of esteem
“begun in 122 AD — a checkpoint —
at the height of roman expansion —
a defence — a monument in time”
no longer circumscribed by doubt
condensed by contracted commands
that defined my futility — I was amplified
as I reached for the cord to bridge
the significantly large area
between — and shared, volumnized,
explicated and abridged the two pages
into a moment of triumph — my
knowledge expanded by Love.

∞

Submitted as part of “National/Global Poetry Writing Month” (#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo).
Today’s prompt: write a poem that is inspired by a reference book. Locate a dictionary, thesaurus, or encyclopedia, open it at random, and consider the two pages in front of you to be your inspirational playground for the day. Maybe a strange word will catch your eye, or perhaps the mishmash of information will provide you with the germ of a poem. ”