I am his, mom.
His arms. His hair.
His aorta. His aroma.

This animas-gizmo
transmits charisma, charm,
thirst, origins, antics…

(tho’ not racism, scorn, or machismo)

This miscasting, it stings.
This arson, it harms.
This scorn…

I, his cartoonish match in this gnostic saga.
This shaman. This artist. I am
his scars. His shortcomings.

I am his stoic grin.

His mirth. His aching.
His anchor. His thirst.
His mast. His tonic.

Can I stomach him? Room him among
atoms, tarots, ghosts, traits?
His rash. His itch. This chariot.

I am his, mama. No iota to omit.

This is a version of a Beau Présent, a poetry form created by Georges Perec and passed on by Carol Peters, where you use solely the letters of a person’s name to write a poem honoring them. I have modified it here to use the letters of my own name to honor my brother, Greg Henneman.



A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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