Love Poem: Shana Aubrey Harris - Part One
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Written by: Matthew Harris

Shana Aubrey Harris - Part One

born two days 
after ole Punxsutawney i.e. the Doctor Phil - 
of woodchucks Latin Name = Marmota Monax 
nest resembled Rastafarian hair weave, 
which creature rattled with ire and peeveishness, 

when rudely roused from his abode February fourth 
two thousand nine hundred and ninety nine 
just two days after said groundhog got prodded to predict, 
what surprises old man winter would deliver 
from his snowy white sleeve
then juiced when he tried tug git cozy once again, 
an ear piercing cry rent quiet  
his pseudo Redmond Proficiency Academy den. 

Wails via this tearful papa surpassed 
decibel deemed tolerated, 
hence entire webbed threshold did reverb 
and rebound and he could not 
muffle ears to block out sound, 
nor would said creature trust 
his beady eyes, how metamorphosis 
doth confoundingly, blindingly, and astoundingly
transformed alien (perfect E.T. Stand in) appearing
gangly infant into a stunning - materiel 
sans as fashionably attired 
home coming queen crowned soon 
to be freshly minted high school senior, 
and perhaps college bound. 

Seventeen plus years ago (soon be nineteen years - 
she skipped to my lou eighteen), elapsed in a flash, 
as a newborn mandated to exit 
womb er full world uterine she 

did plash ordained by Mother Nature 
decreed must wriggle and leave placental stash 
without (of course) leaving a mass of trash. 
Thus, exit from birth canal complemented 
second and last daughter to the Harris mix 

whereby, she communicated 
via clucks just for kicks 
starting to gabble sounds vocalizing - 
sounds of cow bell licks
influenced by Donald Duck 
and Leif Erics son, also enlisting 
literary feedback from Barack Obama, 

and his lovely brood of Dixie chic chicks 
attired in his wall den uniform bespeaking 
his pointed skill teaching pre-presidential days 
within ivied bricks primal utterances she acquired 
(courtesy of Alice Cooper) 
Retained like toys in attics. 

Like any buck minister fully taken aback 
this mister mom did fuss and fawn 
from one jimmy crack corn to the next rhyme, 
which captive infant audience gave no flack, 
precious heir from loins papa did help spawn - 
an everyday cracker Jack of all trades 
whereat n'er tiring as child rearing 

more challenging than untying Gordian knot 
without lack king and how, The Idler Wheel 
Is Wiser than the Driver of the Screw 
and Whipping Cords Will Serve You 
More than Ropes Will Ever Do to pack
a Judy ish us punch, though thee Punim
 
born with adroit skill to quack 
mimicking gripped banshees, 
denizens frenziedly shrieking 
out the box of Pandora - as if one felt a whack 
and a wallop, nonetheless infant younger daughter